


Something Real

by Girl6



Category: The Vampire Diaries (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - No supernatural, Drama & Romance, F/M, Family Drama, Fluff & Angst, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-20
Updated: 2018-08-29
Packaged: 2018-09-18 17:38:44
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 50,281
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9395987
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Girl6/pseuds/Girl6
Summary: Even if she was less vapid and more interesting than the other women he was seeing, this thing tonight wasn’t going beyond coffee and hopefully sex.





	1. Yirgacheffe and Phoebe

The coffee shop was a brown brick hole-in-the-wall, but the mouthwatering aromas that hit him as Damon stepped inside made up for the lack of curb appeal.   The walls were the same brown brick as the exterior and the floors were a shiny gray concrete. Mismatched tables and chairs were arranged haphazardly, but there was a clear path to the counter and display case of pastries. Phoebe Snow crooned from the overhead speakers as a handful of customers took advantage of the Sunday evening lull.

Bonnie Bennett sat at a small table in the back, sipping from a huge ceramic mug and intently reading a book.  She was as gorgeous as he remembered, but she looked different than the woman he’d met all those weeks ago. With the halo of shoulder length kinky curls and smooth, bare face she was more natural urban goddess than flawlessly made up vixen. And now that he’d seen her, Damon felt less trepidation about hooking up again.

He was surprised that she’d called him, especially because he’d had no intention of calling _her_. They’d exchanged numbers out of politeness more than anything else and he’d promptly deleted hers as soon as he’d left her apartment and slipped into his car. A one night stand was a one night stand. He wasn’t her type. She definitely wasn’t his. Too serious and girl-next-door. Her kind craved commitment and Damon wanted none of that shit.

But the _sex_. The memory of it was enough for him to give caution the middle finger.  And here he was.

“Hey”. He greeted as he reached her table.

Her head snapped up and a coy smile stretched her full lips. “Hey.”

The sound of her voice evoked an erotic memory. Of the low hum of it in his ear, soft and womanly as she coaxed him to go harder, deeper. And those dark jade eyes were even more beautiful without all the eyeliner and shadow. No wonder he’d been so drawn to her that night.  Bonnie Bennett was a whole lot of lusciousness in a fierce, tiny package.

She rose from the chair to give him a hug.  As if he were an old friend instead of just some dude she'd fucked once and barely knew. “You want coffee? Something to eat? There’s not a lot on the menu, but the food’s amazing.”

“Coffee’s good.” Damon’s eyes flew to the menu board on the wall behind the counter, where a smorgasbord of offerings were scribbled in multicolored chalk. “I never knew this place was here.”

“Come to this side of town often?”

“Used to.”

“Luxe?” Her tone was teasing as she named the strip club three blocks down.

“Do I look like a peeler bar kinda guy?" He asked with feigned indignation.  "I could’ve been visiting that vintage record store across the street.”

“Uh huh. Who’s your favorite girl?”

He stared at her a beat before the grin he’d been holding back broke through. “Gretchen. She comps me bourbon.”

She was still laughing when they reached the counter and, against his keep-things-casual judgment, he was loving that she was so cool. The Amazon barista turned out to be Bonnie’s cousin Lucy and the shop’s owner. Damon ordered black coffee, leaded. After a stretch of shrewd examination, Lucy deemed him a yirgacheffe man.

“That sounds witchy. And illegal.”

“Well, you can’t smoke it so…you good, little cousin?” Lucy asked Bonnie as she slid a steaming mug of fragrant java across the counter. “Got some black bottoms left.”

Damon brows lifted with interest, tone dripping with debauchery. “I’d like some of those.”

Both women snorted loudly and Bonnie turned to him, eyes shining with humor. “They’re _cupcakes_. And no thanks, Luce. My ass is spreading enough as it is.”

What spread? Her ass looked like a plump little apple in those jeans and discreetly ogling it as they returned to the table spiked Damon’s lust. The plan was to make quick work of his drink and move things to her place. But he got sidetracked by the coffee, which tasted as if it had been brewed by the gods, and the first edition copy of _Bleak House_ Bonnie had been reading. Seduction was abandoned as they discussed the book’s brilliance and whether it or _The Sound and The Fury_ was the more difficult read.

Had she been this interesting the night they’d met?  Granted, they’d done more drinking and eye fucking than getting to know each other so there _was_ probably a chance she was more than just how hot she’d looked in that plunging halter top. But Damon was all about satisfying a physical need, so even if she _was_ less vapid and more interesting than the other women he was seeing, this thing tonight wasn’t going beyond coffee and hopefully sex.  He’d had his share of serious relationships and well…fuck that.

A guy wearing a filthy apron was helping Lucy buss tables as she sang loudly along with another Phoebe tune.

“I never got this song.” Damon swirled the dregs of his coffee, torn between begging for another cup of yamacheechee or whatever it was and hustling Bonnie somewhere more private. “What the hell is ‘two fisted love’? Does that mean the sex is good or is he beating her ass? And if he’s her baby and he’s getting the best of her with his chemistry, why’s she talking about being stuck in the suburbs and dying on the vine? One minute he’s flying off in his space craft and the next they’re wandering on a desert plain with no canteen.”

“First of all...” Bonnie said after laughing her ass off. “…no more coffee for you. And second, what do _you_ know about Phoebe Snow?”

Damon eased back in his chair and shrugged. “When I was in college, there was this hot history professor. She was into a lot of jazz and folk music…Phoebe Snow, Chick Corea, Joni Mitchell. I used to sneak into her office when she was between classes and I could always tell if I was going to get laid by what music she was blasting. _A Case of You_? I was getting lucky. _Harpo’s Blues_? A whole hour of her telling me where I went wrong on my term paper.”

“You’re ridiculous.” Bonnie shook her head, soft curls floating around her face like a cloud.

She was stunning.

_Shit._

“Speaking of...” He murmured, leaning forward to tug her hands into his. “You ready to get out of here?”

The smile faded slowly as Bonnie’s expression grew serious. And determined. Not the reaction he’d been hoping for. Hadn’t she called him because she wanted to hook up? This coffee date was just a pretense, right? Or had he read her wrong?

“Am I missing something?” He asked, keeping his voice low and calm. He wasn’t upset at all. Despite the one night stand, his initial instincts about her appeared to have been right. And if this wasn’t going anywhere…

“I’m sorry.” Bonnie hesitated, fidgeting nervously with her sweater sleeve as she glanced around the shop.

Her agitation was fueling his agitation and Damon found himself scanning the coffee shop with her. It was empty now, Lucy and the busser having disappeared along with the customers. He turned back to her to find her watching him warily. “I thought --”

“Damon.” She sighed heavily, shrinking away from him as she crossed her arms over her breasts. In an instant, she’d gone from warm and open to edgy and closed off. “I asked to meet because I wanted to talk to you.”

Tension knifed its way through his body as instinct warned this was about to go sideways. “About?”

He could see the mental wheels spinning in her head, the moment when Bonnie Bennett decided to hell with everything, she was just gonna put it all out there. She lifted her chin and hardened her eyes and Damon braced himself.

“I’m pregnant.”

* * *

 

  **AUTHOR'S NOTES:**

This is my first TVD fic.  I got the idea while studying, drinking coffee and listening to Phoebe Snow.  She. Was. The. Truth.  Thank you for any and all comments.


	2. Baby Wants What Baby Wants

"You're pregnant?"

His voice was devoid of any emotion, but the tell was in the deep V of his black brows and the way his glacier eyes had narrowed to slits. He was pissed. And although her chest was knotted with anxiety, Bonnie wasn’t afraid. She had a brown belt in Krav Maga. Pepper spray and a stun gun were chilling in her leather tote. Lucy and Jaime were a scream away.

She was fairly sure he wouldn’t physically harm her, but still. Beyond what he looked like naked, Damon Salvatore was a stranger to her. There was no telling what a seemingly sane man would do when some random chick he’d screwed announced she was pregnant. It was why she’d taken Jaime’s advice to deliver the news in a public place.

“I’m about ten weeks.” Bonnie confirmed, bravely holding his gaze. She was a grown ass woman and she would not shy away.

“We used protection.” He countered, anger fully manifesting itself in the abrasive tone and the furious tick of a jaw muscle.

“Condoms aren’t a hundred percent infallible.”

“And you’re one of the lucky two percent of women who get knocked up by the guy of your choice. You sure it’s mine?”

The accusation stung, but Bonnie had expected it. She’d had longer to come to terms with the consequences of her tanked-up choices, so she was going to be patient and try to see things from his point of view. But _oh_ how she longed to grab her stun gun and zap his nuts.  

“I don’t sleep around if that’s what you’re implying.”

“I’m not implying anything. Enjoying sex with one person or a dozen isn’t a character flaw. But if you _were_ fucking a dozen other guys, you damn well better have ruled them all out before crowning me daddy.”

Bonnie inhaled slowly, exhaled.   “For the record? I was _not_ fucking a dozen other guys. I’m also not in the habit of greasing someone I’ve only known a few hours. _You_ were a one-off.”

“Lucky me.” Damon sneered.

“I get it. You’re angry that you knocked up someone who was basically a piece of ass.”

“I never said --”

“But here’s the thing.” She rushed on because _Bitch-I-Don’t-Care!_ Bonnie was rearing her ugly head. “I don’t need or want anything from you. I told you about the baby because I wanted my conscience clear. Now it is. So the next move is yours and I’m cool with whatever that is.”

He glared at her a beat and then, to her surprise, got to his feet and left.  Just walked out without a backward glance, without a gotdamn _word_.

Bonnie took a deep breath, collapsing back against the chair. Her emotions were a confused mess of anger, relief and disappointment, but now that it was over, she could most definitely move on. Gently gliding a hand over her still flat belly, she stood to gather her things as Jaime and Lucy emerged from the kitchen.

“Bitch ass.” Jaime hissed in the direction Damon had disappeared. He moved to Bonnie and looped an arm around her shoulders. “You alright, sis?”

“I'm fine...just glad it’s done.”

Lucy’s eyes were gleaming evilly. “You know where pretty boy lives? I can get David to bust him up for you.”

Jaime hooted. “ _Please_. He’d wrap dude up in a blanket and make him hot cocoa. All those muskulls just wasted.”

“Shut up about my man. He’s sensitive.” Lucy smacked Jaime on the back of the head before pulling Bonnie into a violent hug. “Seriously though…you okay, love?”

Bonnie groaned in exasperation, arms going limp at her sides as her face was smushed into Lucy’s boobs. “ _I’b_ _finb._ ” Her family had been treating her as if she was about to drive off the nearest bridge or suddenly forget how to bathe and feed herself. Shit was beyond annoying.

“Okay.” Dropping a kiss on top of Bonnie’s head, Lucy released her. “As long as you’re good.”

But she wasn’t good, she admitted to herself later as she lay in bed and erased all traces of Damon Salvatore from her phone. Her baby was going to grow up without one of her parents and Bonnie couldn’t help but feel sad about that.

 

* * *

 

Damon was reaching for his fourth single malt when his brother sauntered over to join him at the bar, thick brows knitted with concern.

“Normally I wouldn’t question your talent for decimating the world’s liquor supply, but you’ll be pissing a hundred proof if you don’t slow down.” Stefan watched Damon take a long swig. “What’s up with you?”

Leaning back against the bar, glass dangling from his fingers, Damon let his gaze sweep over the opulently decorated room. Servers in body hugging, flesh-colored unitards and feather headdresses roamed the crowd offering hors d’oeuvres as guests played gauche versions of carnival games. Partying with the rich and avant garde wasn’t Damon’s usual scene, but he’d been ordered to attend.

“What’s Lily raising money for this time? Endangered guinea pigs? Impoverished Romanian porn stars?”

“I think it’s something to do with naked clowns.”

“Just when I thought it couldn’t get any crazier.”

“She’s _your_ mother.” Stefan grinned, reclining against the bar next to Damon and nudging him with an elbow. “Again…what’s your damage? You’ve been brooding more than usual. And fucking everything that moves.”

Damon just stared at him.

“Okay, so that’s normal.” Stefan conceded. “But you seem…preoccupied. You wanna talk?”

Getting another perspective might help Damon work through some shit, but he was going to keep his own counsel. If Stefan knew his big brother had _possibly_ gotten someone pregnant and left her twisting in the wind, Damon would have to suffer though a sermon that would put an Obama soliloquy to shame. And he was already harboring a self-loathing so intense that even two weeks of rampant fucking and drinking couldn’t drive it away.

He turned up the rest of the drink and then leaned over to blow raspberries against Stefan’s jaw.

“Dude, seriously?” Stefan wiped his face in disgust.

Smirking, Damon thumped his chest. “I’m going to say hello to my other mommy.”

It wasn’t hard to find Lily. Wherever there was a hot young stud so was she and currently she was surrounded by them. Her cougar proclivities gave Stefan the vapors, but Damon was all live and let live. In her mid-fifties, she was still a striking woman and like her firstborn, was determined to enjoy life to its fullest. As long as she wasn’t shoving her millions down their True Religion jeans, she could have her boy toys.

When she spotted her eldest coming towards her, Lily abandoned her circle of admirers and met Damon halfway. She was wrapped in silk and dripping with diamonds and he hoped his piece of shit father was eating his heart out in hell.

“Finally remembered you have a mother?” Lily opened her arms, azure eyes gleaming with disapproval.

Damon sighed as he stepped into her embrace. “Not this shit again.”

“Language, sweetheart.” She presented her cheek and Damon dutifully kissed it. “I haven’t seen you in ages. Have you been hiding under the hood of one of your cars again?”

“I’ve been busy working for a living instead of relying on my trust fund. Or other means.” Damon nodded pointedly at the trio of gigolos hovering nearby. “Which one of those meatheads is my new daddy?”

“You’re adorable.” Lily replied drolly, looping her arm through Damon’s to guide him away.  

“Where’re we going?”

"Oh I thought we could get some fresh air.”

“Yeah, that’s not necessary. I’ve already seen her.”

Lily’s eyes were compassionate and smile apologetic as they stopped and turned to watch Katherine Lukovich née Pierce and her husband mingling with eager sycophants. “Ed sits on the board so I had to invite them. She looks fat in that dress, don’t you think?”

“Claws in, mama bear.”   It was moments like these that Damon could forgive Lily’s previous maternal failings. Even though he rarely thought of his ex, his mother still felt the need to shield him from all things Katherine. “You know I’m over that, right?”

“I know she broke your heart so she’ll be forever dead to me. No one messes with my family.” Lily took his arm again and they wandered towards the bar. “Just remember, son, not all women are deceitful and fickle and unable to get themselves to the gym.”

“Please don’t go there.”

“You’ll be forty soon…”

“In _six_ years.”

“…and it’s time for you to stop whoring yourself and settle down. I’d like to see our family expand…I’d like some _grandchildren_.”

Damon had heard this spiel a thousand times, but now it struck an overly sensitive nerve.   He nodded towards the couple PDA’ing it next to a skeeball game across the room.   “Why aren’t you nagging Stefan and Elena about this? They’re an Eskimo kiss away from walking down the aisle.”

Lily narrowed eyes at the willowy brunette clinging to her youngest son. “I’m still not sure about her. She’s Katherine’s cousin and the bitch gene in that bloodline is strong.”

“Why don’t you take your own advice and settle down yourself?”

“Oh I plan to. When I’m seventy, eighty maybe. At the moment, I’m having too much fun.” Lily waved airily at her pouting admirers and gently pushed Damon towards the bar. “Now go do some more damage to your liver. And don’t forget to come and say goodbye before you leave.”

Damon watched his mother glide towards her victims with a shake of his head before turning to signal one of the bartenders. He was definitely feeling the effects of the whiskey he’d already downed, but one more couldn’t hurt at this point.

His phone buzzed and, fresh drink in hand, he yanked it from his jacket pocket. And of course, it was a text from his best friend, adorable pics of his twin daughters (and Damon’s goddaughters) attached. First his mother jonesing for grandkids, now precocious toddlers in Thing One and Thing Two costumes.

The universe was conspiring against him.

 

* * *

 

When Bonnie reached the landing of her second floor walk-up, Damon Salvatore was sitting in front of her apartment door. He was on the tail end of a bender, the dark circles beneath inflamed eyes a telling clue. But the clothes were on point. Black. Quality. Designer.   She vaguely wondered what he did for a living as she watched him struggle to his feet.

“Hey.” He shoved hands into the pockets of his leather jacket and eyed her warily.

“You lost?” Bonnie asked coolly, two weeks of latent anger rushing forth.

“I wanted to apologize.” The words were sincere but delivered uneasily, as if apologizing were a foreign concept to him. “I shouldn’t have bailed on you.”

Bonnie took a long moment to visibly castrate him before nodding curtly. “Apology noted. Excuse me.”

He moved aside but hovered next to her as she unlocked the door.   Clearly there was more he wanted to say, but Bonnie was tired and hungry and needed to pee. She was not here for this drama, didn’t want to hear whatever…

“I’ve been burned before.”

 _Oh_.

Pausing at the threshold, Bonnie gazed at him in a new light now that the reason for his assholery had been revealed. Agitation and uncertainty were evident in his twitchy movements and hunched shoulders. A tiny twinge of sympathy was putting a nice big dent in all her righteous anger and now what was she supposed to do?

Invite him in, because he looked like shit and she didn’t want to do this in the hallway. More importantly? She desperately needed to pee.

“You’re really rockin’ those bloodshot eyes.”

He gave a short laugh and scrubbed a hand over his face. “Too much whiskey and three hours’ sleep will do that do you.”

“Come in then and sit down before you fall down.”

Bonnie entered the apartment and dropped her satchel and bag on a nearby chair before sprinting to the bathroom. The sound of the front door closing told her he’d accepted her invitation. After taking care of business and freshening up, she changed into sweat pants and a Spelman T-shirt, all the while trying to ease steadily growing anxiety. Because boyfriend seemed all chill right now, but that could go south quickly if she wasn’t receptive to whatever he had to say. 

She returned to the living room to find Damon sprawled on the sofa, head tipped back and eyes closed. He looked at home there, probably because they’d engaged in some adventurous foreplay on that very surface before she’d led him into her bedroom. And just like that a rush of lust shot straight to her snatch.

Pregnancy hormones. _Ugh_.

She grabbed the remote off the coffee table and spent several minutes surfing channels before settling on a station. When she turned around, his pale blue eyes were fixed on her, intense and pensive. He’d done a lot of that their first night together. Silently watched her as if she were prey. Then he’d been trying to get between her thighs. Now it was as if he were trying to piece together a puzzle.

“You want something to drink?”

He blinked slowly, as if coming out of a daze. “I could use a cup of that yamacheechee.”

“Yirgacheffe.” Bonnie hid her smile as she moved into the kitchen. “It’s Ethiopian and kinda addictive.”

The local news droned in the background as Bonnie set the coffee brewing and Damon sank further into the sofa and was he dozing? The whole thing smacked of domesticity and Bonnie rebelled at the thought. She shoved the leftover casserole she’d been about to warm up for the both of them back into the fridge and shook off those annoying nurturing urges.

After pouring coffee for him and grabbing a snack for herself, Bonnie carried them back to the living room. Dude was indeed snoozing and she bumped his foot with hers to wake him. “Hey.” She held the mug under his nose. “Coffee.”

He remained slumped against the cushions as he took the mug and Bonnie settled in a nearby armchair, determined to have it out so she could send him on his way. “You wanted to talk?” 

Damon took a sip from the mug, watching her over the rim as she dipped a potato chip into a jar of chocolate spread. “I thought weird pregnancy cravings were a stupid TV trope.”

“Oh no.” Bonnie said around a mouthful of salty-sweet heaven. “It’s a very real thing.”

“Looks like several heart attacks and a lifetime of dialysis.”

“Baby wants what baby wants. And speaking of baby…you wanted to _talk_?”

“Yeah.” Damon sat up, elbows on his knees, the coffee mug held between his hands as he stared into its java-filled depths. “I need proof.”

“Right...well. We can do a paternity test after the baby’s born --“

“I don’t wanna wait that long.”

“--or we can do invitro. I’ll look into it and text you the info.” Bonnie swirled another chip into the jar. “What’re you going to do when the test comes back positive. Because it _is_ coming back positive.” 

He lifted his head, expression skeptical despite her assertion. “One step at a time, Bonnie.”

“You say you’ve been burned before, so I understand the cynicism. But believe me when I say I’m not thrilled that a complete stranger is the father of my baby. I’d rather be pregnant under more appealing circumstances. But you _are_ the father.”

He stared at her a beat and then, “I believe _you_ believe I am." 

The jar of chocolate hit the coffee table with a hard thwack. 

Of all the patronizing...

The chips landed next to the chocolate as Bonnie shot to her feet, hot and mentally weary and _hungry_ and on the verge of crying. She _would not_ cry in front of him. “Cool. You’re where you are and I’m where I’m at. Let’s wait for the test to come back and then you can believe the _test_ believes you’re the father. Whatever. I brought work home, so…” 

“Hey…hey.” Damon put down the coffee and chased her as she went for the front door. “I’m sorry.”

“ _Fuck_ your sorry.” Bonnie yanked the door open and almost punched him when he reached around her to shut it again. She turned slowly towards him, eyes blazing.

“Calm down alright?” He backed away, palms held up and out. “This shit isn’t easy! I’m not at a place in my life where I’m ready to be raising a kid.” 

Like she was? “You don’t have to worry about that…I’m good being a single parent.”

He scowled at her. “If the kid’s mine, I’m going to be in its life.”

“I believe _you_ believe you’re going to be in her life.” Bonnie opened the door again. “Work to do, food to eat.”

He sent the door flying shut again and this time Bonnie did cry. And it horrified him, which a perverse part of her enjoyed. But ugh. Pregnancy hormones.

Damon eased into her personal space and placed gentle hands on her arms, his tone soothing and contrite. “Hey…I’m _sorry_. One thing you’ll learn about me is I can be a dick."

Bonnie brushed her wet cheeks. “Already know that.”

“And I know this is harder for you because you’re the one pregnant.” He sighed and tunneled fingers through dark, messy hair. “Let’s just chill…call a truce. I don’t want to fight with you, especially if…” He waved a hand at her belly.

Nodding silently, Bonnie took deep calming breaths and pressed the heels of her palms against her eyes when she felt another wave of tears threatening. The next moment, she was being pulled into a hug. A really nice once because he felt and smelled amazing. For a long stretch, she left herself be held until nice started turning into something more, at least for her. She wiggled out of his embrace and his hands fell to her hips as he crouched to peer at her. 

“We good?”

“Yeah.” Bonnie stepped away from him and swiped at her nose.

He did that thing again, staring at her as if she were a great mystery, before reaching for the doorknob. “I’ve gotta go. If you need anything, call. I’ll try to curb my bitch tendencies.”

Bonnie grunted noncommittally, practically closing the door in his face when he glanced back at her. And she knew there was no chance of it, but she almost wished the paternity test would come back negative. Because having Damon Salvatore in her life permanently was going to be a problem.


	3. 99.99%

Bonnie’s eyes misted as her best friend emerged from the dressing room. “You’re _the_ most beautiful bride I have _ever_ seen.”

“Don’t make me cry.” Caroline fanned brimming eyes before adjusting the  bodice of the strapless ivory gown. “Isn’t it gorgeous?” 

“It is but…” Bonnie tilted her head in confusion. “…what happened to the other dress?” 

“I’m wearing that for the ceremony. _This_ is the reception dress.” 

“Does your penny-pinching mama know about this second dress?” 

“No, but Klaus is paying for it so she can only bitch about the budget on principle.” 

Bonnie laughed as reached under her shirt to tug her bra away from sensitive nipples. Pregnancy was not agreeing with her today. Along with the breast soreness, she’d been experiencing a resurgent bout of morning sickness that had reduced her meal choices to dry toast and tasteless broth. She’d been looking forward to the disappearance of the worst of the symptoms once she entered the second trimester, but they were lingering with a vengeance. 

As the seamstress, an older woman named Margaret, fussed with the gown’s hem, Caroline noted Bonnie’s discomfort with concern. “You look miserable.” 

Bonnie made a frustrated noise, rubbing thumbs over the itchy buds. “My nipples are still achy and I threw up my falafel. And I’ve been craving it for _days_. I pee every hour on the hour, which I can deal with. It’s having to pee all the time while dealing with the other symptoms that makes me wanna scream.” 

“Try almond oil.” Margaret suggested with a sympathetic smile. “And those cold gel pads for sore muscles. Would you like some ginger tea? It helps with the nausea.” 

“That sounds good...thank you.” 

Margaret rose and left the room as Caroline twirled in front of a full-length mirror, eyes shrewd as she examined the rest of the gown. “So how are you coping with everything?” 

The long sigh had more to do with Bonnie’s current emotional state than her physical discomfort. “I have days when I’m excited about the baby and days when I go ‘what the fuck am I doing?’ Like right now? Looking at you in that dress? I feel like a total cliché. Like a baby mama.” 

“Kate Hudson, Natalie Portman, Adele. You’re in good company.” 

“I guess. I’d probably feel better if my baby’s father weren’t such a dick.” 

“To be fair, he’s having a baby with someone he barely knows. A lot of guys would behave like a dick under those circumstances. As long as he’s got his shit together now. Have you talked to him lately?” 

“Not since we went for the paternity test. The results are supposed to be back today so maybe he’ll call then.” Bonnie drooped against the leather chaise with a frown. “Or run.” 

“Hey.” Caroline walked to Bonnie and leaned over to give her a hug. “Don’t feel bad about this, okay? I know the circumstances aren’t ideal, but a baby is a blessing, right?” 

“I know and I love this little bean to pieces.” She massaged her abdomen as Caroline stepped back. “Plus I always wanted to have a baby and I’ll be thirty soon…” 

“Bitch, in _three_ years.” 

“…and there aren’t any Klaus Mickaelson’s in my immediate future.” 

Caroline beamed at the mention of her fiancé. 

“I just wish I was pregnant by a guy I at least _knew_.” Bonnie rummaged in her bag for a package of the crackers she kept on hand. “And who cared about me. Like Aaron.” 

Caroline frowned as she wandered back to the mirror. “Do I know Aaron?” 

“The airline pilot who looks like Idris Elba?” 

“John Luther Idris Elba?” 

“Stringer Bell Idris Elba.” 

Caroline half-turned, eyes round. “Now that's hot.” 

“Tell me about it.” Bonnie echoed Caroline’s sentiment with an exaggerated expression of appreciation. “He still calls me whenever he’s in town, but…whatever. Damon Salvatore is this baby’s father. It is what it is.” 

“I’m so pissed that I can’t remember him. Was he the blonde Rebekah was humping?” Caroline frowned, referring to her future sister-in-law. 

“He has dark hair.” Bonnie told her, recalling how animated her friend had gotten when she’d spotted Damon at the bar. She’d oohed over his Versace button-up and aahed over his biceps. Being newly engaged hadn’t quelled Caroline’s appreciation for the dumber sex. “ _You’re_ the one that pointed him out to us.” 

“I did?” 

“While in the throes of some really sad twerking.” 

“ _Hello_? Vodka shots and three beers?   How was I supposed to twerk in rhythm let alone remember some random guy? Beks said he was pretty though.” 

“Insanely pretty.” Bonnie mused, picturing midnight hair and pale sapphire eyes. 

“At least my goddaughter will be gorgeous. Can he eat pussy?” 

Bonnie threw her head back and laughed. “Girl, how the hell is that relevant?” 

“If a guy can’t do a reasonable job eating pussy, then being pretty means squat.” 

Ripping open the crackers a little too forcefully, Bonnie muttered, “Not like we’ll be going there again.” 

Thankfully Margaret chose that moment to return with the tea, ending all further conversation about Damon’s prowess as Caroline nitpicked tiny puckers along the gown’s seams. Bonnie’s raging hormones didn’t need any more reminders that she wasn’t getting any. Or that Damon was a cunnilingus doyen. 

A ping sounded from the depths of Bonnie’s tote and she dug out her phone and pulled up her text messages. “Speak of the devil.”

* * *

After an hour spent staring out his office window while sipping from a flask of bourbon, Damon was no longer losing his shit. A small part of him had already accepted that he was the father of Bonnie’s baby, even before they’d met at the lab to have their blood drawn. She’d been too earnest and confident for him to keep denying it, so the leap to acceptance hadn’t been that difficult. 

Actually _seeing_ the proof? That had thrown him into an introspective, self-doubting, self-flagellating tailspin. 

Ninety-nine point nine-nine percent. 

He was having a baby. He and _Bonnie_ were having a baby. And he felt...fine. A little unsure of the future. But mostly… 

Fuck, who was he kidding? His whole world had been upended and was now centered around Bonnie Bennett’s womb. He was two parts petrified and one part oddly excited. And although he wasn’t sure about anything right now, he did know he owed the mother of his child a more sincere apology.

It was just after six on a Friday and the crew was long gone. Damon had planned on spending a quiet evening with Led Zeppelin and a ’57 Mercedes, but he’d gotten distracted by the paternity results and now working on a new project held no appeal. He stared at his cell for a long, tortured stretch before sending the text. 

 **can we talk?**

His phone rang seconds later and he downed a fortifying mouthful of bourbon before answering. “Hey.” 

“What’s up?” She sounded over this situation, over _him_. 

“Have you seen the test results?” 

“I didn’t request notification, remember?” She reminded him in a clipped tone. “The test was for your benefit.” 

Damon sat down again and swiveled his chair towards the window. He detected a fair amount of smugness and residual resentment, which meant he had a lot of smoothing over to do. “We need to talk.” 

“Okay.” 

“Can I come over?” 

“I’m with a friend right now and I was about to go home and go to bed. I feel like shit.” 

Mild alarm had Damon sitting up straight. “This feeling like shit is _normal_ feeling like shit, right?” 

“It’s just sore boobs, nausea. Nothing serious.” 

He had a vague knowledge of the minutiae of pregnancy after witnessing his friend’s wife go through nine months of carrying the Twin Terrors. But Damon had always made himself scarce whenever Jo had complained about aching tits or vomiting or had joked with gruesome frankness about hemorrhoids.   Ric had endured it all with amazing patience and good humor. Damon doubted he could even be half as standup as his best friend had been. He was flying blind here, completely out of his element and scared shitless. 

“We can meet on Sunday if that’s good for you.” She suggested. 

Damon was disappointed but they agreed on a time and after awkward goodbyes, he sat staring out the window again, feeling dissatisfied and on edge.  Sunday was a long way off and there were too many hours left in this day. He needed to do something to tamp down his nervous energy and he began scrolling through his phone contacts for a distraction.   Blonde or redhead? Big jugs or nice legs? 

He wound up at Jo and Ric’s instead. The Saltzman household was in the middle of its usual chaos. Jo was chasing after Lizzie, or Thing Two as Damon had dubbed her, who refused to be bathed. Ric was searching frantically for Diane, Thing One, who had snuck into her father’s man cave and was now comfortably nestled on Damon’s lap. She pilfered pieces of pastrami from the sandwich Jo had made for him while Damon sipped a beer. And as he tugged playfully at her pigtails, his mind conjured up another little girl with Bonnie Bennett’s soft curls and sea green eyes. 

“There you are, little monkey.” Ric lightly scolded his daughter as he came into the room. He scooped her up, pressing a kiss to her cheek as he punched Damon’s shoulder. “Come on, man, a little help?” 

“Why should I ruin the kid’s fun?” Damon murmured distractedly, enchanted by Diane’s foot. It was cute and tiny and he tickled the heel as the toddler squealed with delight. 

“What’re you doing here on a Friday night anyway?” Ric asked, eyeing his friend shrewdly. 

“I can’t visit my goddaughters?” 

“It’s been awhile since you’ve wanted to play uncle.” 

“So I’m playing uncle now.” 

“You’re usually cowering in a corner when they’re on a tear, so cut the BS. Let me toss this one in the tub and when I come back, I wanna know why you’re not somewhere being drunk and degenerate.” 

Damon’s temper surged at the dig. It made him sound worthless and unreliable. And at his age, in this new reality, that wasn’t a good look. But he had to admit, if he hadn’t been so desperate to talk to someone, he probably _would_ be wasted and rutting between some chick’s thighs right now. And he’d chosen Ric as a sounding board because he wasn’t ready to share Bonnie and the baby with his family. They could be overbearing and until he got things right with her, he wanted no one adding fuck ups on top of his fuck ups. 

Ric returned some time later with his own beer. He closed the door firmly, took the matching club chair across from Damon and pinned him with an expectant look. “Alright, what’s going on?” 

What should he lead with? The baby or how he’d first met Bonnie or --

“I’m having a kid.” 

The beer on its way to his mouth froze in midair as Ric stared stupidly at Damon. “Fuck did you say?” 

“Me.” Damon tapped his chest. “Gonna be a daddy.” 

Ric stared at him a beat. “Shit.” He cocked his head at angle and frowned, trying to make sense of this news.  Then he was looking at Damon again, expression still incredulous. “ _Shit_.” 

“Yep. That’s how I feel.” 

“Fuck, it’s Amber, isn’t it?” 

Damon shuddered because although amazing in the sack, Amber was a flake. “What makes you think it’s her?” 

“She comes up most often in the rotation?” 

Another crack about his slut inclinations. Damon tried hard not to let it bother him. But it bothered him. 

“It’s not Amber.” 

Relieved, Ric pressed further. “Then who?” 

Damon set the beer aside, determined to end the evening on a slightly sober note, and recounted the whole story, from his and Bonnie’s first meeting to the paternity results. He wasn’t even aware that he’d gone from chill father-to-be to totally freaking out as his tale progressed until Ric got up and pressed a glass of single barrel into his hand. 

“I’ve already had too much.” Damon protested half-heartedly. 

“Sleep in the guest room. This occasion calls for getting juiced.” Ric poured himself a generous glass and fell into his chair again.   “I was going to ask if you were handling things okay, but I can see that you’re not.” 

“Eh. One minute I think I’m good, the next minute…” Damon grunted in self-disgust. 

“You tell anyone else?” 

“I will.” Damon took a long swallow of whiskey, relishing the burn. “When I can talk about it without curling into a ball and weeping.” 

“Wise. So tell me about this Bonnie.” 

Damon scowled as he tried to think of something. “I…don’t really know her. She’s tiny. And mean.” 

Ric snickered. 

“Maybe mean’s not the word.” Damon amended, remembering how she’d basically told him to man up or fuck off. “She doesn’t take any shit.” 

“I like her already. Sounds as if you like her too.” 

“Don’t go there. She’s blazing, but with a kid in the mix, we can’t afford to get any lines blurred.” 

“If you like her, what’s the problem?” 

Getting emotionally or even physically involved with Bonnie meant someone was going to get hurt if things didn’t work out down the line and there was no way he was putting a kid in the middle of their personal crap. 

“No.” Damon said firmly, more to himself than Ric. 

“Whatever. When’s the baby due?” 

“I’m not sure. Haven’t gotten to that part of the program yet.” Damon sighed long and low as he sagged in the chair and rubbed a hand across his face and through his hair. He went off into his own world as he pondered what he knew and didn’t know about Bonnie and the baby.

“Hey, how about a toast?” Ric topped off their drinks and then raised his glass. “To Baby Salvatore.” 

Raising his glass, Damon acknowledged his friend with a nod. “To Baby Salvatore.” 

They each knocked back their drinks in one long swallow and then Ric refilled the glasses again. “Let me give you some advice.” 

“If it’s about my father or Katherine and how I shouldn’t let what happened with them keep ruining my life yada yada yada, I’ve heard that shit before.” 

“Actually, I was just going to tell you to relax and enjoy this. Get to know Bonnie, enjoy her pregnancy because despite some minor horrors, Jo and I enjoyed watching her get big as three houses and listening to the babies’ heartbeats and setting up the nursery.” 

Ric’s voice grew increasingly sappy and Damon rolled his eyes. 

“And think about your childhood and all the stuff you wanted to do and _would’ve_ done if you’d had a halfway decent father and then think about doing all those things with _your_ kid.” 

Damon preferred not to think about his childhood. Instead he focused on all the times he’d experienced fatherhood vicariously through Ric and his cousin Zach. Hockey games and tea parties and trick or treating and bath time madness. Now he had a chance to experience those things with his own child. 

And suddenly fatherhood didn’t seem so frightening.

* * *

 

**AUTHOR'S NOTES:   **

This bit here was part of a chapter that turned into a monster. I needed to break it up to make it flow better, so the next one is hella long and this one is super short.  Sorry about that. 

I also changed Thing One's name to Diane (Ric's mother's name) since Jo is very much alive in this fic.  I hope you enjoy and thanks again for the reviews.


	4. Grease Monkey Sex God

The volume dropping on “Kashmir” and a long whistle of appreciation had Damon rolling from under the Mercedes to find Stefan standing at his feet. 

“You like?” Damon sat up, propping forearms on his knees as he swung a gear wrench idly in one hand. 

“You know I prefer American, but this one is sweet.” Stefan did a slow circuit around the car, brows furrowed in scrutiny. “A 190SL, right?” 

“Three hundred. She was rotting away in a barn in Altona, but you’re home now, aren’t cha, baby?” Damon crooned, stroking the car’s bumper. 

“Who’s the buyer?” 

“Tech nerd with a god complex.” 

“How much of a complex?” 

“Million-five.” 

“ _Holy_.” Stopping in front of Damon again, Stefan regarded his brother stoically. “Guess you won’t be coming back to the company any time soon.” 

Damon shrugged, lying back on the creeper and rolling under the car again. “You and Lils are doing okay without me.” 

He didn’t have to say that he wanted no part of Salvatore Holdings because it still stank of their late father. Everyone knew the real reason for his shunning the family business but out of deference to his feelings, the subject was never given voice. 

Stefan leaned in to examine the engine Damon was dismantling and said casually, “You spaced out at dinner the other night.”

 _This shit again_.

Rolling from under the car a second time, Damon remained prone as he scowled up at his brother. “Something in particular you wanna know?” 

“Something in particular you wanna _share_?” There was challenge in Stefan’s eyes as he returned Damon’s glare with a might-as-well-fess-up look. 

Little brother in mother hen mode was annoying as fuck. Damon had already decided to tell his family about the baby at next week’s standing Thursday night dinner. He wanted all the shock and all the questions over in one shot. Stefan was putting a serious kink in that plan, but Damon was determined to hold firm. 

“I’m going through something…life altering. When I’m ready to tell you about it, I will. That cool with you?” 

Maybe he shouldn’t have used “life altering” because now Stefan was gaping at him in alarm. “You’re n-not…you’re not sick or anything?” 

Silently observing him for a moment, Damon bitterly recalled Stefan as a sweet kid who’d get terrified whenever his big brother got into trouble and was “disciplined” by their father. And because he understood where this obsessive fretting came from, Damon wasn’t going to flame him for it. Today. 

“I’m not sick. I’ll tell you what’s going on _when I’m ready_ , but I’m gonna need you to back off until then, _va bene_?” 

“Yeah...sorry…I was just…” Stefan shoved hands into his pockets and abruptly changed the subject. “The Bruins are in town tonight and Elena and I have an extra ticket. You interested?” 

“No offense, baby brother, but watching you two teehee and suck face doesn’t sound appealing. Besides, I’ve got plans.” 

And he really should’ve said no when Tara had called wanting to hook up given he still felt slightly off kilter after last night’s binge. He’d woken up at the Saltzman’s feeling ancient and anemic and had spent two hours in the gym trying to sweat the alcohol out of his system. All he needed was one good meal sans the liquor appetizer and some sleep and he’d be a perfect physical specimen again. But per usual, his inner sexual demon had gotten in the way of good sense. 

“You and Amber hittin’ some clubs?” 

Aggravated, Damon snatched up a water bottle and took a long sip before responding. “It’s not Amber.” 

“Really? You two are always hanging out, so I just assumed. Anyway.” Stefan was back to drooling over the Mercedes and eagerly pulling off his jacket. “You need any help? I’ve got some time.” 

It’d been a while since they’d worked on a car together and now _this_ was the kind of brotherly interaction Damon could get behind. Shelving his irritation, he pointed at several engine parts lined up neatly a few feet away as he rolled under the Mercedes once more. “Bag and label those.” 

A half hour in, they were working at an efficient clip when Damon’s phone erupted. He wiped dirty palms on his worn jeans before yanking the cell out of a pocket, surprised to see Bonnie’s name lighting up the screen. 

“Hey.” He lowered his voice as Stefan hovered nearby. “How’re you feeling?” 

“I’m fine.” 

She sounded anything but so Damon asked again. “How. Are. You. Feeling?” 

He could hear the frustrated sigh despite the loudness of the subway in the background. “I’m exhausted and my breasts feel like they’re about to pop, but I went a whole morning without hugging the john so…yay.” 

The guilt ratcheted up a notch as Damon realized she’d been suffering through this shit while he’d been assing it up. He wanted to make amends. Because after a night spent talking about the baby and then dreaming about the baby, he’d fallen in love with the baby and he wanted desperately to do right by the kid. And that meant doing right by its mother. 

“You need anything? What can I do?” 

There was a pause and then, “Hey, this comes with the territory. Today its sore breasts, next week it’ll be heartburn but I’m fine, I promise. Look, I know we were supposed to meet tomorrow, but something’s come up and I was hoping we could get together today?” 

“Yeah, we can do that.” Damon agreed, keen to hit the reset button. “I’m at my shop now, but I can meet you in--” 

“I can come there.” 

“Why don’t I come get you instead?” He was out from under the car and on his feet now. “Where are you?” 

“I’ll come there.” She insisted. “I’m out running errands anyway.” 

Damon wasn’t happy about her taking the subway with her feeling the way she did, but he could hear the stubbornness in her voice so he relented. He gave her the address and by the time the call ended, his mood was on the upswing. 

Stefan was watching him with raging curiosity. “Should I make myself scarce?” 

“You should.” Damon replied bluntly as he began putting away tools. 

“Starting your date early?” 

“Different chick.” 

With a laugh and shake of his head, Stefan walked to the sink to wash grease off his hands. “One day you’re going to meet a woman who’ll cure your manwhore ways and I am _praying_ I’m there to see it.” 

“I doubt it.” Damon joined him at the sink and nudged him aside. “Elena is that rare breed of perfectly devoted woman. Everyone can’t be as lucky as you.” 

The uncertainty that flashed across Stefan’s features drew Damon up short. Usually mentions of Elena elicited a goofy smile, but… _shit_. Was there trouble in paradise? 

“I say something wrong?” 

“No.” Stefan answered curtly as he dried his hands. He couldn’t get to his jacket fast enough and was jerking it on when he said, “So I guess I’ll see you at mom’s on Thursday?” 

“Hey.” Blocking his path to the door, Damon clapped a hand to Stefan’s shoulder and eyed him with concern. “What’s going on? You and Elena okay?” 

“Yeah, yeah…we’re good.” Forcing a smile, he punched Damon’s arm lightly. “I’ll see you next week.” 

As he watched Stefan leave, Damon sensed that things with Elena were _not_ good. And the more he thought about it, the more Stefan’s laser focus on Damon’s life made sense. Little brother was avoiding his own problems. He made a mental note to invite Stefan out for beers in a couple days. See if he’d open up if given the chance. 

In the meantime, he had his own drama to deal with and he was actually looking forward to it.

* * *

Salvatore Customs occupied a three-story white brick building on the corner of 22nd. A large bay door took up the lower left side and a bank of tall dark windows wrapped around the second and third floors. The area was working class residential and commercial, with turn-of-the-century brownstones and small stores mixed in amongst newer industrial buildings. As she stood at the entrance waiting for him, Bonnie was rethinking her initial impression of Damon Salvatore. 

From the mod clothes to the shway black Vanquish he’d been driving the night they’d met, his whole persona had screamed trust fund baby. But as she surveyed the area, Bonnie began to wonder if there was maybe more to him than just an expensive car and hip clothes. 

The door opened and there stood the enigma in all his grease monkey sex god glory. Low slung jeans. Black wife beater. Jacked arms. Longish messy black hair and sultry cerulean eyes. Even the dark smudges on his jaw were attractive and Bonnie suddenly remembered why she’d let him take her home and smoosh her all over the apartment. 

“Fuck.” Damon shuddered at the gust of icy October wind and quickly hustled Bonnie inside. “Should you be out in this shit?” 

Official for one day and already he was in overprotective daddy mode. “You want me to spend the whole pregnancy bubble wrapped?” 

“I’m good with that.” He grinned, tiny crinkles forming at the corners of his eyes. 

 _Just ridiculously pretty_ , Bonnie thought. Her quim throbbed in agreement. 

“I’m fine, baby’s fine.” She forced herself away from him to inspect this shop of his. 

The building was larger than it appeared on the outside, stretching lengthwise to accommodate vehicles in varying stages of restoration. Cranes hung from the ceiling and a bazillion tools lined the walls. Classic rock bumped from a sound system and the smell of oil hung heavy in the air. She wasn’t big on cars, but the bronze beauty directly in front of her left Bonnie in awe. 

“ _Nice_.” She walked to the car and dipped to peer inside. 

“1973 Pantera.” Damon came to stand next to her and launched into an enthusiastic description of the car’s vintage guts. He lost her somewhere between 351CU engine and ZF transaxle, stopping abruptly when he noticed her laughing. “What?” 

“You are a _serious_ gearhead.” Bonnie teased. “Like, sacrificing-hoopties-to-the-car-gods serious.” 

He ducked his head, rubbing the back of his neck as he smiled sheepishly and the whole thing was kinda cute. “Yeah, it’s a sickness.” 

Their gazes met and held and making those startling eyes even more deadly were the long spiky lashes. _So_ pretty. And if she didn’t stop this hormonally driven lusting, she’d be naked and spread eagle on top of the Pantera’s hood. 

“You wanna grab something to eat?” Damon went to lock and bolt the door. “We can sit and talk.” 

She wasn’t sure what else needed to be said, but she was starving. “Yeah, dinner sounds good.” 

“What’s baby craving?” 

“She’s been wanting Greek the last few days.” 

“I know a place across town.” He came back to her, fingers light against her hip as he guided her towards the elevator at the rear of the room. “Let’s go upstairs…I’ve got a change of clothes in my office.” 

The elevator glided smoothly to the third floor and as they stepped off, Bonnie was awestruck. It wasn’t so much the office taking up the whole third floor or the artfully stained concrete floors or the massive, curved Plexiglas desk. It was the fucking _car_ sitting in the middle of the room. 

“Are you kidding me?” Bonnie went to the compact red convertible and ran a hand down the sleek hood, brain working overtime as she scanned the room. “How’d you get it in here?” 

Damon came to stand next to her, smug and tickled at her reaction. “I built it here. Wasn’t easy getting some of the parts through the elevator and reinforcing the floor.” 

“Why would anyone build a car in his office?” 

“Because it’s over the top and I deal with a lot of rich asses who’re impressed by this kind of stuff. They see the Barchetta and offer big money for it or beg me to restore a classic for them or both.” 

“A red Barchetta.” Bonnie walked around the car, marveling at the antiquated dials embedded in the dashboard. “Like the Rush song.” 

Damon expression was impressed. “What do you know about Rush?” 

“Used to date a guy in a cover band. Looked just like Geddy Lee.” 

“I question your taste in men.” 

“Oh...” Her eyes drifted over his chest and arms. “…it’s improved over the years.” 

His whole face lit up with a shit-eating grin and _why_? _Why, Bonnie_? 

“Give me fifteen to shower and change.” 

Pulling his phone out of his pocket, Damon began rapidly tapping as he disappeared through a door on the other side of the room. Intense heat suffused her whole body and Bonnie knew it had more do to with the way his back muscles rippled than hormones. 

She pulled off her coat and draped it over a gray leather sofa as she wandered around the room. A long red wall featured tens of pictures of Damon with clients and fabulously restored vehicles. On his desk sat mechanical blueprints, detailed 3D designs and a desktop computer that would make Tony Stark envious. Three pictures held pride of place on a clutter free corner. One of twin girls who looked up to no good. One of Damon, another man with dark blonde hair and an older woman with Damon’s blue eyes. The last was of Damon, the dark haired blonde and two other guys dressed in ski gear and posing in front of a steep snow-covered hill. 

What had she learned about the father of her baby by scouting his office? That he had family and friends and…that was it. For her child’s sake, she wanted to get to know him, but spending time with him might not be the sane thing to do when she was in the middle of one of her spells. 

He was obviously texting when he emerged again, dressed in clean jeans and a snug, midnight blue pullover. Mercy. 

“Ready to go?” He slipped the phone in his front pocket. 

“Yep.” Bonnie reached for her coat, hand fluttering as it often did to her belly. Damon approached her then, gaze drawn to her middle. 

“Shouldn’t you be bigger?” 

“No, I’m just entering the second trimester.” She lifted her top to show him the slight swell. “She’s about the size of a plum.” 

He splayed his hand across her stomach and Bonnie fought hard to keep her reaction inward. His palm was warm and firm and calloused and pleasure rippled from her clit to her nipples and back to her clit again. With a nonchalance she didn’t at all feel, she stepped away and Damon moved in again to help her put on her coat. He smelled _so_ good. Spicy and...lickable. He was just…wreaking all kinds of havoc on her equilibrium. 

They took the elevator to the bottom floor again and exited the shop by the rear door. Damon pulled up a security app on his phone and set the alarm before leading her to a late model blue Camaro, as lovingly restored as the cars in his shop. As he helped her into the passenger seat, Bonnie smiled to herself because _seriously._ Such a gearhead. 

Damon drove the Camaro with much speed and skill through the dense Saturday night traffic, peppering her with questions mostly about the baby. At the restaurant, his ribbing her about her appetite (because baby wanted a little bit of everything) kept Bonnie laughing and his sweet apology for his previous behavior nearly had her bawling. Ugh. Hormones. 

For the most part, she was able to keep her attraction to him under control. Then he discovered she was a teacher.  

“What do you teach?” He asked with intense curiosity. 

“Chemistry.” Bonnie leaned back in her chair to let her food digest and prayed she could keep it down. She noticed he’d gone quiet, expression far away. “Are you alright?” 

His lips tilted in a wicked smirk. “Not really. Having a lot of hot teacher sex fantasies at the moment.” 

Laughing, Bonnie covered her face. “Jesus.” 

“When you’re teaching, what are you wearing?” Damon’s gaze was near orgasmic as he leaned across the table. “Eyeglasses? Stilettos?” 

 _Jesus_. 

Damon checked his lasciviousness while driving her home later, but he’d opened the floodgates and now Bonnie couldn’t stop thinking about fucking him on top of her classroom desk wearing safety goggles and her favorite Prada platforms. And as he walked her to her door, she contemplated seducing him because he was giving off those vibes. Little looks here, little touches there. 

But impulsive behavior was the reason they were where they were and although Bonnie now knew more about him, he was still a man and they were good at walking out when things got rough. Her mother had experienced it twice and she was still bitter because of it. And Bonnie was fairly sure Damon had been texting a woman earlier, which meant…she wasn’t sure exactly what it meant, but she wasn’t about to set herself up for heartbreak.

“Thank you for dinner.” Bonnie said from the safety of her open doorway, trying to keep some distance between them but again, Damon was having none of that. He drew her into a hug and gave her a gentle squeeze before releasing her, hand trailing over her abdomen as he stepped back. 

“I’ll call you tomorrow.” 

She didn’t need that smooth voice in her ear making the throbbing between her thighs worse. “You don’t have to.” 

“I know.” He pivoted, walking backwards towards the landing. “I’ll call you anyway.” 

Bonnie watched him jog down the stairs before retreating inside the apartment. Later in bed, her fingers did a fairly decent job of easing the persistent ache in her snatch. But she was still restless and unsatisfied, finally falling asleep with relentless Damon fantasies playing in her head.

* * *

Even though he’d canceled their date, Tara had sent a text inviting Damon over for a late night session if he was free. He’d taken her up on the offer because he’d left Bonnie’s apartment in a feverishly aroused state. Now as he watched the beautiful redhead dance nude in front of him, his dick couldn’t even be bothered. It was just hanging out in his jeans, being all flaccid and picky. _Never mind. Wrong pussy._  

And Tara’s flat belly got him to thinking about Bonnie’s smooth, slightly rounded one and the little nugget growing inside of it and now he was getting all sappy. It was fucking disgusting how sappy badass Damon Salvatore had gotten in the past twenty-four hours.

Tara climbed onto his lap and settled her cunt right over his disobedient bulge.   “What’s up with you?” 

Her breasts were gorgeous 36Ds and determined, Damon reached for them, squeezing roughly as he latched onto a stiff nipple. Tara moaning and grinding against his crotch should’ve done the trick, but nope. Dick didn’t even twitch. Damon’s head fell back against the sofa in frustration. “ _Fuck_.” 

Tara wiggled in his lap. “Yes, please.”   

He laughed pitifully. “Hate to break it to you, but--” 

“You’re not into this?” 

Lifting his head, Damon patted her ass apologetically. “Sorry.” 

“I could call Kimberly. We had fun together last time, even though dingbat kept forgetting the safe word.” 

“Hmm.” Damon contemplated it for a hot second. “Not sure that would help.” 

Grabbing a bottle off the end table, Tara poured two shots of vodka and handed one to Damon. “Do you want to talk about it?” 

She was a nice. Smart and funny and not at all interested in a serious relationship. Just his type, or so he’d thought. They could probably be friends if he took the time to get to know more about her than just her favorite position. And the fact that she was nice and far removed from his life was probably why he found it easy to confess the truth to her. 

“I’m going to be a father.” Damon said, surprised at the pride he felt with that statement. 

“Oh?” Tara responded with genuine interest. She took a sip of her drink and shifted in his lap, apparently no longer concerned with fucking. “How do you feel about that?” 

Right, she was a psychologist. This kind of shit was her thing. 

“I’m excited. Kind of happy.” 

“Then congratulations. Are you and the mother-to-be involved?” 

Shaking his head, Damon swirled the vodka absently and watched it slosh against the glass. 

“Do you want to be?” 

His dick apparently did. “I don’t know. We’re just trying to get along and focus on the baby.” 

“But you like her?” 

Damon thought about the time he’d spent with Bonnie today and he experienced a flush of pleasure. She was unique and sweet and fierce and he hadn’t laughed with a woman like that in a long time. “I like her.” 

Tara’s expression was naughty and perceptive. “You wanna fuck her.” 

His head dropped back against the sofa again and now this time his cock did twitch. “Badly.” 

“ _Ah_.” She bounced off his lap and grabbed her robe. “I was right about you.” 

“What?” 

“This reckless playboy shit, it’s not you. I see monogamy and more babies and a suburban bungalow with a two-car garage in your future.” 

“Get out.” 

“No _you_ get out.” She waved him towards the door, more amused than angry. “I’ve got a date with a dildo. And you should quit judging women by the bitch that gave you those trust issues. Whatever. You’re a big boy, I’m sure you’ll figure it out.” 

“I’m sure I will.” 

But as much as he liked Bonnie, the baby was the number one priority. The kid needed him. Damon refused to follow in his old man’s horrific parenting footsteps. Which meant he should probably scale back the getting wasted and indiscriminate fucking. He placed his untouched drink on the coffee table and Tara walked him to the door. 

“Two things. First, I hear pregnant sex is really hot.” 

He laughed and damn if that didn’t sound intriguing. Bonnie had been luscious before, but pregnancy had made her even more alluring. “What’s the second thing?” 

Tara smiled and leaned up to buss his cheek. “Send me a picture when the baby’s born.” 

Damon couldn’t stop grinning as he drove home. Couldn’t sleep either. He spent the rest of the night researching and planning and fantasizing and by the time he finally went to bed, he knew almost everything there was to know about babies and the sex drive of pregnant women.

* * *

**AUTHOR'S NOTES:**

In the few TVD shows I've seen, Damon seems to listen to more 90s era music, but I prefer old school in this fic, so classic rock it is.  Also, not sure which city I want this set in, so I'm keeping all references to urban surroundings generic until I decide.  I don't think it detracts from the story, so I may never give their hometown a name.  As always, thanks so much for your comments and reviews.


	5. It's Not Amber

Bonnie was in bed when Damon called Thursday evening.  They’d been talking and texting nearly every day for the past week and it always gave her a tiny thrill when his name popped up on her phone.  Their conversations ranged from short to lengthy, from profound to humorous and usually ended with him trying to coax her into meeting up and her making an excuse as to why she couldn’t.  She’d initially thought getting to know him would be essential for them to be decent co-parents, but he was too much for her overly sensitive self to handle at the moment and she was keeping her distance until she could.

“How’s the nugget?”  He asked over the sound of a car starting. 

“The nugget’s fine.” Bonnie burrowed deeper under the covers and yawned loudly. “Sorry.” 

“It’s barely seven and you’re already in bed?” 

“Mmmhmm. I overdid it a little on the tacos and bacon ice cream.” 

The disgust in his voice was thick. “Could you maybe work a vegetable or two into your diet?”

“There was lettuce and tomato in the tacos.” She said defensively. “And onions on the hot dog.” 

“My kid is gonna have two heads.” 

“Your kid is gonna be beautiful.” 

“If she’s anything like her mama, yes she will be.” 

His spit game was so on point. 

“By the way, why’re we talking about it as if it’s a girl? You know something I don’t?” 

“I just have a feeling…my whole family does. We’ve got a sixth sense about these things.” Then she remembered he was telling his own family about the baby this evening. “So, tonight’s a big deal, huh? Text me later and tell me how it goes.” 

“Why don’t I come by tomorrow night and tell you in person?” 

She was flattered but terrified that he wanted to spend time with her. “I…have a lot of papers to grade.” 

As edgy silence ensued, it occurred to her that avoiding him was just intensifying the sexual craving.

“Did you think I was going to ignore you until after the baby was born?” His voice was equal parts amusement and frustration. 

“Honestly? I wasn’t sure what you would do. And I’m glad for the baby’s sake that you’re trying, but…” Bonnie struggled for an explanation that wouldn’t make her sound like an emotionally stunted teenage girl. 

“You afraid things might get sticky?” 

“Sticky…” Her grew husky as her mind went straight to the gutter. “…in what way?” 

“ _Ahh._ It’s your _hormones_ keeping me at arm’s length.” His voice was filled with way too much male pride. 

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” 

“Sensitive breasts, increased blood flow to the vagina. Sex drive has doubled and you’re probably feeling out of control and vulnerable.” 

Was he serious with this shit?  “Somebody’s been doing their homework.” 

“I like to know what I’m dealing with. So…tomorrow?” 

“Is…Friday.” 

He snorted. “You’re a lot of work, Bennett.” 

Self-preservation did that to a girl. 

“But I get it.” 

The regret in his voice made her feel a little guilty and kind of silly. They were two mature adults having a baby together and Damon was putting a lot of effort into trying to turn an awkward situation into…something. What would be the harm in spending some time together? She could handle this. 

“You know what? Yeah, we can hang out. Is eight good for you?” 

Now Damon was the one hesitating. “If you’re not sure--” 

“I’m sure.” 

“Because full disclosure? I’m attracted to you. And not just because you’re having my kid. If I get my shit together and you stop fighting your hormones, I can see a lot of sex in our future.” 

That relentless ache between her thighs began pulsing again. 

“But right now, it’s not about that, Bonnie.” He was intense and sincere. “We share flesh and blood. When we die, we’re going to leave behind long generations of kids with your brains and, if God is merciful, my looks.” 

“And hopefully my modesty.” Bonnie snickered. 

“If our grandkids ask me what grandma was like when she was younger, I’d like to be able to tell them.” 

This Damon was far removed from the Damon that’d walked out on her when she’d first told him she was pregnant and Bonnie blinked back tears.   “Can you bring Chinese?” 

“That would be a no. In the fourth month, her tooth buds are forming and her reflexes are developing. You should eat something with nutritional value, you want the kid to be toothless and slow?” 

He’d obviously been reading up on prenatal development too and while Bonnie found that adorable, was he seriously policing her food choices? “Speaking of a lot of work.” 

Damon’s laugh was velvety and sexy and wet panties inducing. “Rub the nugget for me. I’ll talk to you later.” 

Bonnie tossed her cell down, now wide awake and agitated. Her snatch was practically screaming for attention, but what were her fingers compared to the real thing? She turned on the TV hoping the background noise would help lull her to sleep, settling on a comedy after long minutes of distracted channel surfing. Then she slipped a hand beneath her nightie and gently rubbed her bump, smiling softly. 

“That’s from daddy.”

* * *

They were in the middle of dessert when Damon casually dropped the news. For a shocked few seconds, no one moved or uttered a sound save Damon, his laugh deep and full of self-satisfaction as he reached for a glass of red. 

Stefan had been bracing himself for the worst after his brother’s confession that something was indeed up with him. His imagination had run wild with possibilities, but a _baby_? And because he usually played his cards close to his chest, it was hard to gauge how Damon was feeling about this new twist in his life, but he did accept Zach’s congratulations with a genuine smile. 

He refused to offer any details beyond the fact that the baby was due in April and that its mother was “just a chick I dated”. Lily’s prodding only strengthened his tight-lipped stance. Stefan knew Damon was biding his time until Zach, his wife Gail and their two teenagers left. They were family and he had a grudging affection for them, especially the youngest kid, Tristan. But Damon wasn’t about to discuss something so deeply personal with them present. 

When it was finally just the three of them, they moved into Lily’s architecturally stunning living room and she went to the bar as Damon planted himself at the mahogany grand piano sitting regally in a corner. 

Stefan reclined on the sofa as random chord progressions filled the room. “You weren’t kidding when you said you were going through something life-altering.” 

Damon hummed noncommittally, fingers dancing absently over the keys. Lily placed a highball on top of the piano, then returned to the bar for two more and carried them back to the sofa, handing Stefan a glass before settling next to him. They shared a look and Stefan shook his head, silently imploring his mother to keep quiet until Damon was ready to talk. He was in one of his moods, evidenced by the silence and the staring out at the nightscape as his fingers made magic out of “The Great Gig in The Sky.” Stefan preferred modern rock himself, but Pink Floyd was nice to get buzzed to. 

The music lulled them into dreamy relaxation and then it stopped abruptly. Damon grabbed his drink, taking a long nip before turning sideways on the piano bench and cocking a brow at them. “What, no interrogation?” 

That was all the opening Lily needed. She scooted to the edge of the sofa, gin and tonic almost spilling from her glass, and hissed. “It’s that kooky bitch with the ridiculous breasts, isn’t it?”

Damon held fell back as he let loose a world weary groan. “For fuck’s sake, it’s _not_ Amber.” 

“Well she’s the star of your hoochie lineup, what else am I to assume?” 

Stefan laughed long and hard because this Amber thing was a monster of Damon’s own making. He’d broken his strictly ass wrangler rule and taken her to a number of his mother events because no way was he showing up alone if Katherine was going to be there with her billionaire sugar daddy. Supposedly, Amber was the hottest of all the women he’d been seeing and despite being akin to a circus attraction, she _was_ gorgeous, a young Lucy Liu lookalike with porn star breasts and legs for days. 

“If you never use the word hoochie again, my life will be made.” Stefan told his mother as he hurled a throw pillow at Damon. “You gonna tell us who the baby’s mother is or not?” 

Damon chucked the pillow back and hesitated, obviously reluctant to expose her to the family and with good reason. When it came to their personal lives, their mother could be opinionated and seriously intrusive. It stung that Damon had withheld something so monumental from _him_ , but Stefan couldn’t talk given he was hiding his own drama. 

“Her name is Bonnie.” Damon offered. “And she teaches high school chemistry.” 

“A teacher, huh? That’s a switch. Is she tasty?” 

“Oh yeah.” Damon turned back to the piano. “Very tasty.” 

“And are you going to marry this tasty little nerd?” Lily asked dryly. 

“This isn’t the eighteenth century, mom.” Stefan teased, but he was curious about the nature of Damon’s relationship with this mystery woman. “What exactly _are_ you and Bonnie?” 

As he turned up his drink, Damon went through a series of complex left-handed arpeggios and Stefan rolled his eyes at the showboating. As kids they’d been forced to take piano lessons, but Damon had been the one to truly take to it. 

“We’re friends having a baby together.” Damon set his empty glass aside and segued into “Us and Them”. 

“You should bring her to dinner next week.” It was worded as a suggestion, but it was Lily so it came out as a demand. 

“No.” 

“Is there a reason you don’t want me to meet the mother of my first grandchild?” 

“I don’t want her to take my kid and run for the hills?” 

Blinking rapidly, Lily dropped her head and sank back against the cushions. Stefan scooted closer to curve an arm around her and press a kiss to her cheek. Oblivious, Damon played on and Stefan wondered if his brother was even aware of the emotional pain he sometimes inflicted on their mother. Their father was at the root of it but somehow, they were all going to have to get beyond the specter of Giuseppe. 

He would talk to Damon about it later, but for now, Stefan needed to lighten the mood. Talk of their annual dudes’ trip always did the trick. “Ski conditions in Alberta are supposed to be pretty good next week. You still making the trip?” 

“Why wouldn’t I?” 

“Figured you might want to stay close to Bonnie.” 

“We’ve got a long way to go until April, she’ll be fine.” Damon got to his feet and sauntered over to them, dropping down next to Lily and kissing her forehead before pulling her into a hug. Lily leaned into him, reveling in the rare display of affection. “Bonnie and I are still figuring things out. Give us a little breathing room and I promise I’ll bring her to meet you.” 

“Before Thanksgiving?” 

“We’ll see.” He released her, giving his mother a look that said he wasn’t going to be swayed. 

“Is she at least nice? If she’s anything like that last one…” 

Oh yeah, this was the perfect time to bring up Katherine. Stefan scowled at his mother and she only shrugged as she sipped her drink. 

“How many times do I have to say I’m over Katherine before you believe it?” Damon’s hard gaze encompassed them both.   “The paternity test came back positive, so Bonnie’s lapped her several times on that point alone.” 

“That may be true, but I’d feel better if I knew more about this young woman than just her profession.” 

Stefan was taking his mother’s side on this. Damn Damon’s privacy. He was working on an interesting theory and he needed confirmation. “You gotta give us something, man.” 

Damon scratched his jaw thoughtfully. “Cliff Notes version? She’s about the size of Tinkerbell. Has questionable taste in food. Extremely smart and much too forgiving. But pulls no punches. Mostly…” His eyes grew soft. “…she’s just a sweet girl.” 

Uh huh. Stefan had only suspected his brother was in the first stages of whipdom. Now he knew it for sure. 

* * *

On Friday evening, Bonnie answered the door drowning in a faded pink T-shirt that stopped above the knees. Thick purple socks were scrunched around her ankles and her hair was pulled into a loose topknot. Damon couldn’t tell if she was wearing panties, but she definitely wasn’t wearing a bra. Her nipples were clearly visible beneath the thin, soft fabric and it was going to be a struggle to keep his eyes above her neck. 

She greeted him with a hug, he responded by kissing her temple. As he moved past her into the apartment, he mused at how easy they’d fallen into whatever it was they had going on and that they’d come a long way since she’d first told him she was pregnant. 

“That smells good.” Bonnie was digging into the takeout bags as soon as he sat them on the counter. “Wait, is this vegetarian?” 

“Yep.” Damon pulled off his jacket and flung it in the direction of the sofa. “Your arteries are probably clogged with all kinds of sludge, you need a break from fat and cholesterol.” 

“But I’ve been craving some sort of super-fried protein.” 

Damon tapped fingers lightly against her belly. “Tooth buds forming, reflexes developing.” 

She sighed and curved a hand over her bump. “Fine.” 

“There’s chocolate cake if you eat all your veggies.” 

She brightened instantly and resumed pulling out containers. “Plates are in the cabinet next to the fridge.” 

Damon was reaching into an upper when he noticed the small dry erase board stuck to the refrigerator, the date and time of her next checkup written in green marker. 

“You’ve got an appointment in a couple of weeks.” 

“Umpf humpf.” Bonnie mumbled around a chunk of whatever she’d shoved in her mouth. 

“I think I can carve out some time to go with you.” 

“Oh you don’t have to. I’m usually in and out in twenty minutes anyway.” 

He carried the plates to her and tugged the cake out of her hand with a shake of his head. “Is this gonna be a thing?” 

“I just wanted a taste.” Bonnie glared at him. 

“I meant you keeping me on the outside looking in. I don’t care how long the appointment lasts. Short of actually having the kid, I wanted to be there for everything else.” 

Bonnie sighed, tugging at a fistful of shirt. “I’m sorry…I’m just used to doing things on my own. Of course, you can… _hey_.” She snapped fingers in his face. “Eyes up here.” 

Damon reluctantly dragged his gaze up to meet hers, grin unrepentant. She’d inadvertently pulled the shirt tight against her breasts and they were perfect plump teardrops, the nipples puckered and poking against the fabric. “You expect me to pay attention with those on the loose?” 

She shoved a bottle of wine and an opener at him, eyes narrowed in warning. “Try. All my bras are too tight and the girls like the freedom.” 

As he concentrated on opening the wine, he called up a mental image of Bonnie naked and pressed against the wall of her narrow hallway, breasts bouncing vigorously as he thrust up into her. Was that the moment the nugget had been conceived, or had it been when she was riding him on the living room floor? 

The rattle of silverware yanked Damon out of the erotic memories. It wasn’t quite erect, but his cock was throbbing with want and _shit_ this was going to be a long night. Common sense was urging him to take things slow, but his body was demanding to bang into Bonnie’s right now. 

She was moving dishes onto the coffee table and as Damon carried wine for him and water for her to the living room, he realized for the first time just how small her apartment was. It was half the size of his place and although it was neat, just about every nook and cranny was stuffed with comfortable, eclectic furniture, books and knickknacks. If memory served, her bedroom was small too. How was she going to fit a newborn and all the newborn accoutrements in so little space? 

“It’s pretty tight in here.” He said, pushing brightly colored pillows aside to sit next to her. “Is the nugget going to sleep on the window sill?” 

Bonnie glanced fondly at her life’s debris. “I just need to rearrange some stuff.” 

“So she’ll get to sleep in the sink instead?” 

“It’s not _that_ small. This was my first apartment and I love it. It’ll work.” Bonnie handed him a plate and bumped her knee against his. “Tell me how your family took the news.” 

He ate a forkful of veggie lasagna as he recalled Thursday night dinner. “They were surprised. But happy for me.” He glanced sidelong at her to see her reaction. “They wanna meet you.” 

“Should I be scared?” 

“Of my brother, no. My mother is…a lot.” 

“Meeting family is inevitable, I guess.” She commented with blasé bravery. “What about your dad?” 

His Giuseppe trigger went off.  “Dead.” 

“Oh.” She gave his thigh a consoling squeeze. “I’m sorry.” 

“I’m not.” The sentiment was out before he could stop it. She was looking at him with concern now and he forced himself to reign in the latent anger that emerged whenever he was forced to speak of his father. “We had a difficult relationship.” 

“I’m getting more than difficult, but we don’t have to talk about it.” 

She shifted until she was practically sitting under him, a move meant to comfort and Damon’s heart clenched. He’d told her family she was a sweet girl, but that had been an understatement. 

“Speaking of ‘a lot’, I want to apologize in advance for my grandmother.” 

He turned to look at her and she was smiling mischievously around the fork in her mouth, eyes sparkling. Then she removed the fork, licked her lips and said, “Be afraid.” 

Bonnie’s mouth was fast becoming Damon’s favorite feature. It was wide and bow-shaped and tilted at the corners, the bottom lip slightly plumper than the top. And noticing he’d gone quiet and what had caused his distraction, she leaned forward and kissed him. It was as hot and good as he remembered, but much too brief and when he tried to move in for more, she pushed him away with a finger to his forehead. 

“Eat.” She ordered, dimpling out as she returned to her own plate. 

Sweet with a side of evil. Now he was feeling extra skeetish, but he followed her lead because this was her show. Apparently she needed more from him than just a few episodes of good behavior and because she was worth it, he was willing to bide his time. 

And while he couldn’t have her physically, he did get a buzz talking her. She was quick-witted and her sense of humor was as dry – but less depraved – than his. She talked enthusiastically about her students and shared some hilariously frightening stories about parent-teacher conferences gone wrong. She was similarly opinionated, just a hair shy of judgy, but serious in her convictions. And she loved her family.  Damon found himself wanting to meet her grandfather based on his antics alone. 

She was crafty at setting verbal traps too. Whether it was a cleverly worded statement or a strategic question within a question, it was all designed to pick him apart but Damon held back because seriously? Bonnie would probably bail if she got a good look at his demons. He utilized his most lethal tools of charm and deflection until eventually she stopped trying. Damon couldn’t comprehend why he felt disappointed. 

It was getting late but neither of them were ready to part company. They segued from listening to music to watching a movie. And when he sprawled on one end of the sofa, Bonnie wrapped herself in a blanket and curled up with her head in his lap.  He tucked a pillow under her head to spare his poor schlong because he was already partially wooded up from that kiss. He slung one arm over her hip and while she got into “Rear Window”, Damon engaged in self-torture, playing with the loose hairs curling at her nape and running his fingers lightly along the shell of her ear and back of her neck. He didn’t know if it was affecting her, but beneath the pillow, he was definitely feeling it. Eventually her eyes drifted shut and he thought she was dozing until she spoke. 

“That day I came to your shop.” 

His fingers went still, senses were on high alert. “Yeah?” 

“You were texting another woman.” 

This wasn’t Bonnie being jealous, this was Bonnie trying to figure out whether he was worth the trouble. Things had progressed beyond two strangers having a baby together to two people _maybe_ exploring a relationship who just happened to be having a baby together. She was being careful and his next play demanded that he be honest. 

“I _was_ texting another woman.” He admitted, refusing to feel guilty about it but he was still slightly anxious as he tried to dissect her non-reaction. 

“So you’re dating someone else?” 

“I think I’m dating you.” 

She rolled onto her back to look at him, eyes sleep-heavy and expression not here for any bullshit. 

“I don’t – _didn’t_ – date. I had lots of sex with lots of women, including you. And yes, I was texting another woman that night, I went to her after I left you and tried to fuck her with truly pathetic results.” 

“Really?” Perfectly groomed eyebrows rose high with skepticism. 

“I don’t lie and I don’t bullshit.” 

“No…you don’t.” Bonnie turned on her side again, gaze focused on nothing as her mind worked. He was fully expecting her to kick him out, but then she turned her head to look up at him, lips trembling. 

“When you say ‘pathetic results’, you mean you couldn’t…?” 

Damon’s ego was being put through the shredder and his response was a reluctant and affirmative grunt. 

He could feel her body vibrating. “Is that going to be a problem in the future?” 

“If what’s going on under this pillow is any indication, no.” 

The laughter finally shook loose and he scooped her up against him, nuzzling his face in the crook of her neck like he’d been wanting to all night. She was killing him slowly, but at least now the air was clear. They knew where the other stood and Bonnie was still very much in control. So when she burrowed back under the blanket and refocused her attention on the movie, Damon had no choice but to call on his patience again and ignore the ache in his jeans. 

When she was dozing again, Damon eased his cellphone from his pocket and quietly snapped a picture of her. Then he slipped his hand under the blanket, curved his palm over Bonnie’s belly and followed her into sleep. 

* * *

Damon was always hype for the yearly ski trip, but one day in and he was missing Bonnie. And because he had a tendency to fall hard and love messy, Damon had a mini freak out over how attached he’d gotten in such a short time. But he reasoned that Bonnie was nothing like Katherine or the long ago girlfriends who’d soured him on relationships so he resolved to quit flipping his shit because monogamy was beginning to rear its head. 

He’d phoned her last night and she’d called him this morning and Bonnie was missing him too if her oft repeated “When are you coming home again?” was anything to go by. Until he was able to have the real thing, Damon would have to make do with scrolling through pics of her as he rode the elevator down to the ski lodge’s lobby. 

Before he’d left for Alberta, they’d spent a lot of time together and his new obsession of snapping photos of Bonnie in various settings had resulted in a ton of images. His favorite was of her asleep on the sofa wearing a snug tank and yoga pants, one hand curved under her gently swelling belly, the other resting above her head, face partially obscured by coils of dark hair. 

Just looking at these pictures reminded Damon of what he’d had and how bad he wanted it again. This taking it slow shit was torture. Lots of chaste kisses and hugs and although his nerves were fraying, Damon was going to keep working off his sexual frustration at the gym and jerking off in the shower until Bonnie was ready. 

Stefan, Ric and their friend Marcel were halfway through breakfast by the time Damon joined them. He requested coffee and a loaded omelet when the waitress appeared, blind to the tension at the table. 

“Damon. My man.” Marcel wiped his mouth, tossed down his napkin and leaned back in his seat, cool as always but working toward being pissed.  “My friend, my brother from another mother. You got something you wanna tell me, jackass?” 

Damon scowled because what the hell? 

“I might’ve mentioned the baby.” Ric clued him in. 

“Fuck. Knew I was forgetting someone.” Damon lay a fist over his heart and puckered his lips at Marcel in a repentant kiss. “Sorry, puddin’.” 

“Man, whatever. Why am I always the last one to find out about shit?” Marcel’s salty glare bounced between them. “I thought we were boys?” 

“You haven’t been around.” Stefan pointed out, scoping a trio of attractive women passing by, eyes full of humor when they snapped back to Marcel. “I mean, it’s been five months, aren’t you tired of her yet?” 

“Hey.” Ric aimed a warning finger at the Marcel. “Ignore him and enjoy this newlywed stretch. Get as much sex as you can while you can because when the babies start coming…” He shifted the finger to Damon. “…it’s once a week of _maybe_ ten minutes of missionary after the kids are down.” 

“Ten minutes?” Damon sneered. “I should kick your ass on Jo’s behalf.” 

“There are laws against elder abuse.” Stefan riffed. 

Ric flashed them a middle finger as he stuffed eggs in his mouth. 

“So to summarize.” Marcel sounded like the savvy lawyer he was. “Damon’s doing the daddy thing and Ric’s wife needs a real man. Am I caught up now?” 

Damon’s gaze shifted to Stefan, who stonewalled for a second before taking a deep breath and announcing, “Elena and I broke up.” 

Even though Damon had gotten the news on the ride to the airport yesterday, hearing it again was still a shock. “We just weren’t clicking anymore,” had been the explanation Stefan had given and there was probably some truth in that. He and Elena had been together since high school and, to be honest, Damon was surprised they’d lasted as long as they had. 

Marcel looked as broken up as Stefan probably felt. “Man, I’m sorry.” 

Ric was beyond stunned. “What he said.” 

“Thanks, but I’m good.” Stefan lifted his coffee mug to his lips. “I’m done talking about it.”  

Silence descended as Damon’s order arrived and food was consumed. Conversation eventually picked up again and Marcel, unable to let shit go, steered the topic back to his man pain. “I guess everyone’s met the baby mama --“ 

“ _Bonnie_.” The hardness in Damon’s voice meant the baby mama tag was a no-no. 

“My bad. Everyone’s met _Bonnie_ but me.” 

“Actually.” Ric’s countenance was marred with bestie disapproval. “I have yet to meet the woman who’s having the baby of the dude who _says_ I’m his best friend and is the godfather to my children, whose mother he _has_ met.” 

“You got issues, dude.” Stefan shook his head, but he was in his own feelings and looked eerily like their mother as he whined. “I haven’t met her either. Haven’t seen a picture, nothing.  Really starting to wonder if she’s real.” 

“Come on, Dame.” Marcel threw up his hands. “I can understand not wanting to be embarrassed by Ric, but you haven’t introduced your woman to your _brother_? What the hell, man?” 

“A bunch of fucking drama queens.” Damon muttered as he grabbed his cell and pulled up the photos of Bonnie. He placed the phone in the center of the table and Marcel snatched it up first, holding it so Ric and Stefan could lean over and look. 

“Aww yeah.” Marcel enthused. “She’s got that goddess thing going on.” 

“Damn, bro.” Stefan flashed his brother grin. “She _is_ beautiful.”

“I hate you.” Ric muttered. 

Damon wolfed down his breakfast, silent and proud. 

“This stunning creature can definitely be in the family.” Marcel reached across the table to punch Damon’s shoulder. “I’m happy for you, man. And I’m calling a boy.” 

“But it’s a girl, per Bonnie.” Stefan grabbed the phone away from Marcel and continued swiping through the pictures. “When are you finding out for sure?” 

“I don’t know.” Damon rifled through his mental prenatal notes. “I think in another month.” 

“If she thinks it’s a girl, it’s a girl.” Ric said sagely. “Women know these things.”

“I still say it’s a boy. I got a C-note on it.” Marcel held out his fist. “Any takers?” 

“Girl.” Ric held his fist against Marcel’s. 

“Girl.” Stefan added his fist to the mix and they tapped knuckles on it. “I’d love to have a niece.” 

“Ric’s little vicious minions are already outnumbering the next generation. We need a boy.” Marcel argued. 

“Ric’s angels are why I think a girl would be cool.” 

“That’s sweet, man. You already planning the trip to the American Girl store?” 

“Don’t be ashamed.” Ric said in a show of solidarity. “That place is pretty cool.” 

“You pussies gonna braid each other’s hair or are we gonna ski?” Damon grabbed the check. 

“I’m ready.” Marcel rubbed his hands together with glee. “Let’s hit some slopes, baby.” 

As they were heading out, Ric held Damon back as the others walked ahead. “It’s interesting that Bonnie has her own little corner of your phone and that you didn’t push back _once_ on her being referred to as your woman.” 

“Make your point, Saltzman.” 

“I’m just sayin'. A few weeks ago, you were serious about not getting any lines blurred.” 

They emerged outside and the too bright sun had Damon slipping sunglasses over his eyes as he tried to think of how to respond to Ric without sounding like a sap. But it really was as simple as Bonnie being the antithesis of drama. 

“She’s easy to be with.” Was all he was willing to offer and he hoped Ric would leave it at that. 

No such luck. As they grabbed equipment and headed for the lifts, the guys ragged him about being tamed and pussy lassoed.  Damon didn’t mind so much.

* * *

She hadn’t seen him in a week so Bonnie’s heart was extra trippy when Damon walked through the lobby doors of the medical building. He strode towards her, looking extra beautimous in a leather jacket and jeans. The stubble on his jaw was thick and a gray beanie covered his hair. He’d gotten off a plane an hour ago, yet he looked viral and well rested and she was sort of envious because  _God_ she needed a vacation too. 

She tried to play it cool at how happy she was to see him, but as soon as he wrapped her up and pressed a kiss against her temple she was goo. 

‘You miss me?” 

“Eh.” She smiled against his chest. 

“Okay.” He laughed knowingly. 

Before he’d left for his trip, they’d spent a lot of time together. Mostly at her place since he stopped by nearly every day. They’d ventured out for dinner out one night, and took in a movie another but mostly they hung out at her apartment. He’d bring takeout or she’d cook and afterwards they’d watch TV together or he’d read while she graded papers and prepared lesson plans. 

The sexual tension was near the breaking point though and she was pretty sure when he came by tonight, he was gettin’ the panties. There was only so much hugging and forehead kisses she could take.

“Let’s see the nugget.” 

“Nothing’s changed since the last time you saw her.” Bonnie said, but opened her coat so he could splay his hand over her belly. 

“I don’t know.  She feels bigger.” He looped an arm around her shoulder as they walked towards the elevators. “So how’s this supposed to go?” 

“I pee in a cup, they check my blood pressure, take some measurements. Like I said, in and out.”

Only the appointment lasted longer than anticipated because Bonnie was measuring ahead of schedule. Dr. Acosta, a forty-something Latina with an outgoing manner, suggested an ultrasound because they might be off on the due date and Bonnie felt Damon tense next to her.   Of course, his mind would go there and she would’ve been angry if she didn’t know his history and the trust issues that went with it. So she grasped his hand and pulled him closer, heart breaking at the fear in his pale eyes. 

Bonnie was slathered with cold gel and then Dr. Acosta beginning sliding the probe around her abdomen. She felt Damon squeeze her hand as the baby appeared on the monitor and it was just a black and white blur of head and feet and look at the teeny hands and the cute little foot and Bonnie’s eyes stung because _my baby._

“Nugget fits…check out that head.” Damon grinned at her despite the conflict she knew he was feeling. 

After a few minutes of more of exploring, the doctor confirmed the initial due date and Bonnie watched on the sly as the anxiety drained from Damon’s tense features. And then he was beaming at her, his blue eyes almost crystalline with joy. She didn’t like that such a profound moment had been marred by whatever demons he was battling and now Bonnie wished she could have just five minutes with the bitch who’d burned him. 

“Your amniotic fluids are leveling a little high, which accounts for the off measurements, but there’s nothing to worry about there. If it was low, then we’d have a problem. We’ll monitor it again on your next visit just to be sure we’re all good.” Dr. Acosta continued to roll the probe around Bonnie’s abdomen until she found what she was looking for. “Do you want to know the sex?” 

“Miss Cleo here says we’re having a girl.” Damon teased, rubbing a thumb over the back of Bonnie’s hand. 

“Whatever. ” Bonnie rolled her eyes and then peered at the monitor. “Isn’t it too soon to tell?” 

“Not at all. There’s his little kickstand right. _..”_ Dr. Acosta circled an area on the screen. “…there.” 

“Kickstand?” Bonnie blinked at the screen. “My girl is a boy?” 

No cute afro puffs and hair bows, jump ropes and prom dresses. It was going to be fresh haircuts and hoops if her grandfather had a say and those weird little boy smells and eyes like his daddy’s _please_. 

Through the blur of tears, Damon’s face swam into view and he gave her a sweet kiss before pulling back with a superior grin. “Sixth sense my ass.”

* * *

 **AUTHOR'S NOTES:**  

If you want an idea of what Damon would sound like playing the Pink Floyd songs "The Great Gig In The Sky" and "Us and Them" on piano, you can check out videos [here](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3KwpHKeijJ4) and [here](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZpwJaQ6C81Q). And for reference, the original Pink Floyd tunes are [here](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZpwJaQ6C81Q) and [here](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nDbeqj-1XOo).


	6. Family

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As always, thank you for all critiques, kudos and reviews.

* * *

The plan was to go out and celebrate their baby boy. After her appointment, Damon dropped Bonnie off at her place and promised to be back by seven. A night out was welcome after spending the last week being a serious homebody. But when she stepped inside her apartment, it was colder than the Antarctic. Water leaked from the radiator, saturating the hardwood floors and her prized Moroccan rug.

The super arrived promptly and pushed everything aside so he could wet vac. After a thorough inspection, he deemed the wood floors salvageable, but the radiator needed replacing. The repairs would likely take several days, which left Bonnie scrambling to find a place to crash. By the time Damon returned, she was cranky and freezing. Definitely in no mood to argue and neither was he.

"Why can't you just stay with me?" Damon pressed a third time as he watched her fill a carry-on bag. He was leaning against the bedroom doorframe, dressed in a slim fit black shirt and dark gray pants and how was he not a popsicle? Bonnie felt the cold keenly despite being cocooned in a thick parka.

"My mom lives three blocks away and you live across town." Bonnie argued practically as she debated which boots to pack. "Her place is the shorter commute to work."

"I could drive you to work." He moved into the bedroom and lifted a pair of black lace boy shorts from her open underwear drawer. "Definitely pack these."

Exasperated and amused, Bonnie snatched the panties away and tossed them back into the drawer. "The more you don't help, the quicker we get out of this icebox."

Damon reclined on the bed next to the bag, snagging a bra and draping it across his chest. "How's this supposed to work anyway? We go back to my place to have sex and you do the walk of shame back to your mom's tomorrow? Might be kinda awkward."

Bonnie pushed back the coat's fur-lined hood to give him her ohreallynow face. "Look at you, all flying on yourself."

His shrug was cool and matter of fact. "I didn't get here on my own. You've been checking me out all day."

" _Lies_."

"Not once did your eyes get above my belt."

"Um, my eyes are about ten inches lower than yours so yeah it looks like they're stuck your below your belt."

"You are fucking gorgeous when you bullshit."

Bonnie bit back a smile as she folded pajamas into the bag. Of course, she was bullshitting. She'd made all kinds of meticulous mental plans for this night, down to the color she'd paint her toes and the skivvies she would wear. But teasing him was too much fun, especially when he was looking as needy as he was now.

"Is sex not how this night was gonna end?"

"Oh, it was gonna end in lots of sex until the radiator exploded and you turned into Guido."

He leaned back on his elbows, expression shameless. "You knew I was a slut when you met me."

She smacked him with a purple thong and shrieked when he hauled her down on top of him. He rolled her to her back, careful not to crush her belly, and her thighs parted like the Red Sea.

"If you're going to panty whip me, do it with the ones you're wearing." Damon slanted his mouth over hers, kiss rough and wet as he plucked the panties from her hand. Then he brought them to his nose and inhaled deeply before tossing them over his shoulder with a comically disappointed frown. "Those don't smell pink and sloppy."

Bonnie shook her head. "You're disgusting."

"I _know_." He drawled, eyes flaring wide and expressive brows waggling. "You like it."

"This _ego_. What the hell was I thinking when I brought you home?"

"Mmm, I don't know." He lifted her hand and kissed her fingers as their gazes linked conjugally, lust pitching his voice lower. "But I'm glad you did."

"Me..." Bonnie nipped his lower lip. "…too." Her hands glided down his back to squeeze his ass as her teeth latched onto the fleshy underside of his chin. The stubble was surprisingly soft and tickled her tongue and she nuzzled lower to scrape her teeth over his Adam's apple. She could feel him shuddering against her and Bonnie reveled in the power.

Damon grasped her chin, bringing her face up to kiss her again as he waged a mini battle with her coat. He wrenched it open in frustration, snaps clicking loudly, and the first thing he went for were her breasts. Her sweater was bunched up to her neck before she realized it and Bonnie released a sharp intake of breath when he gripped the sensitive flesh.

"My bad." He gently kissed a tender nipple. "I'll take care of those later." He promised as he moved down her body and tugged down her jeans.

It occurred to her as he was sucking a patch of skin on her hip that they could just take this to his place, but Bonnie had been hot and bothered for weeks. She needed him to take the edge off now and he could save this foreplay shit for later.

The jeans and panties flew off and then Damon was between her thighs with his pants pushed down around his. She recognized that he had a thing for her mouth. If he wasn't staring at it or kissing it, he was caressing it with his fingers or sucking on the lower lip or nibbling on the upper and this time was no different. He let himself get distracted until an impatient Bonnie wedged her hand between them and fisted him with authority. That got his attention and he inhaled sharply, head rearing back as he gazed at her with intrigued eyes.

"It's been four months." Demanding jade irises locked on his amplified blues as she brought the engorged head to her opening. "I need you to _focus_."

The beast was unleashed. Bonnie's hands were pinned above her head as he was thrusting inside her and _oh_ how she'd missed sex. Damon might be outlandishly verbose when he was in seduction mode, but he was silent and intense when handling his business and Bonnie appreciated that. His stroke game did the talking for him and right now it was smooth as hell despite their precarious position on the edge of the bed and the added encumbrance of partially shed clothing. He literally put his head down and went to work, face buried against as much of her neck as the hood would allow, hips pistoning so fast Bonnie could barely keep up.

The bed shook, the bag tipped onto the floor. The wall would probably be missing chunks thanks to the thumping of the headboard against it. Bonnie dug her heels into the backs of his thighs and clenched her inner muscles around him until Damon was rasping and groaning like a dying man. They were wet and sticky, feral and loud.

_Smack, smack, smack._

_Thump, thump, thump._

It was everything Bonnie needed it to be, hard and deep, fiery and quick. And then weeks of pent up sexual longing came to a sublime, sweaty climax. While Damon sagged on top of her, boneless and breathing hard, Bonnie was beaming and stretching under him because _damn_ she felt good.

When he lifted his head, Damon's eyes were glassy and heavy-lidded, smile lazy and content. " _Mmm_."

Bonnie released a long sigh of contentment as she swept damp ebony locks from his forehead. "I agree."

"Imagine what we could do naked and with a bigger bed."

"Hmm, I don't think I want to just imagine." She framed his face in her hands and brushed lips against his triumphant grin. "Let's go before I change my mind."

Five minutes later, they were still sucking each other's tongues. Bonnie was gasping once she was able to pry her mouth away. "We need to go _now_. It's freezing in here."

A half hour later, she eased off his flaccid cock and stood up on shaky legs, leaving Damon lying on the bed still trying to catch his breath. "I'm not kidding this time. We need to go."

For sanity's sake, they got dressed on opposite sides of the room. The carry-on made it back onto the bed and Bonnie continued packing, hastily shoving clothes inside. She was about to zip up when Damon pressed against her from behind and _Freyja, save me_. Was she going to be able to walk tomorrow?

Damon's arms came around her and a wisp of black lace was placed reverently inside the bag.

"Don't forget these."

 

* * *

 

When her phone beeped for the third time, Bonnie shut it off and shoved it into her tote.

"Your mom again?" Damon guessed as he guided the Vanquish down 6th street and entered a parking garage.

"How'd you guess?" She responded dryly.

"Something tells me I've already fucked up my first impression."

"It's fine. She's just…" Bonnie groaned inwardly thinking about the lecture to come at this Sunday's dinner. "She's still trying to make up for things that went down when I was a kid and sometimes she can be a little extra."

He drove past the security booth with a nod to the guard and then the car was zooming up a level and around a tight corner. "What kind of _things_ we talking about?"

"Really, it's nothing."

"Doesn't sound like nothing." He glanced meaningfully at her before easing the car into a spot next to the blue Camaro. After cutting the engine, he turned to skim knuckles over her cheek and tangle fingers in her curls. "You wanna talk about it?"

"Do you want to talk about your dad?" She challenged. He had some serious daddy issues, evidenced by the way he tensed up whenever she mentioned the man in passing.

True to form, he veered away from the topic by focusing his attention elsewhere, reaching across her to unstrap her seat belt. "Let's get you settled."

In the elevator on the way up to his apartment, Damon dropped her bag and hemmed her up in a corner. His hands slipped under her coat to fondle her bottom as he kissed her near unconscious. Bonnie wasn't sure about the emotional side of their relationship. They shared a strong infatuation that could develop into something more or implode when reality kicked in. The physical side of the relationship? It had quickly reached hardcore levels and was in no danger of leveling off anytime soon.

The elevator came to a smooth halt, the doors slid open, and their lips parted with a soft pop. Damon snatched up her carry-on and took her hand to lead her to the unit at the end of the corridor. With each step, Bonnie was reminded of the slight soreness between her thighs.

"Am I going to get any sleep tonight?"

"Eventually." He murmured, blue eyes full of erotic intent as he unlocked the door.

So tomorrow she'd be exhausted _and_ unable to walk.

Damon's apartment was pretty sick with its dark hardwood floors, exposed brick walls and vaulted beam ceilings. Two long walls of floor to ceiling bookshelves flanked the living area and beyond it was a bank of wide windows with an amazing view of the bay. The furniture was sleek and overstuffed and there were some interesting souvenirs from various countries decorating the walls and shelves. It was all very masculine and shockingly neat and Bonnie wouldn't mind at all spending a few days here instead of being smothered by her mother.

"Let me give you the two dollar tour." Damon waved a hand in several directions as Bonnie trailed behind him. "Living room's there…kitchen…dining. Here's a bathroom and in case you snore…" He opened a door and gave her a playful warning look. "…guest bedroom."

"Don't be cute, Damon." Like he'd really kick a horny woman out of his bed.

They reached the master bedroom and Damon motioned her in ahead of him. There was more exposed brick and wood floors and a large rug lay beneath a wide platform bed covered in sable and gray linens.

"This is where we'll be spending most of our time."

Damon emphasized that point by sliding an arm around her, fingers resting just above her mons as the whisper of a kiss touched her neck. If she weren't already pregnant, she most likely would be whenever he finally let her out of that bed.

"So we blew the dinner reservations." Damon let her go and dropped her bag on the bed. "But I can order takeout."

The thought of food wasn't intriguing. Good loving and good sleep was all she wanted. "I'm not really hungry."

His brows shot up. "You shit me."

"I do back away from the trough every now and then."

"He's not going to like you skipping meals." He nodded at her middle as he started unpacking the bag for her.

"Believe me, when he wants to eat he'll let me know." Bonnie sat down on the bed to pull her boots off and almost pledged her undying love to its plushness. "What I really want is a shower."

Damon led her into the master bathroom, primed the shower for her and then gave her some privacy. And she appreciated that because beneath the residual afterglow and their relaxed interactions, there was just a smidge of anxiety at the thought of domesticating with him. Spending a finite amount of time together was one thing. Living with him, even for only a few days, was another. They weren't yet attuned to each other's little quirks and habits and what if he got on her nerves? Damon seemed pretty chill when it came to dealing with random stuff, surprise pregnancies aside, but Bonnie hadn't yet mastered the art of patience.

By the time she was done with showering and the rest of her nightly ablutions, she was low key freaking and scolding herself for low key freaking. But the edginess fled the second she stepped back into the bedroom and saw Damon standing next to the bed with his back to her, bare assed naked.

Bonnie did what any sane girl would do in this situation. Worshipped. Drooled. She wasn't sure what he was tinkering with on the nightstand, but the action had muscles dancing in his back and ass and thighs and those _arms_.

His head turned sideways, mouth tilted in a crooked grin. "Whatcha doing, Bon Bon?"

"Staring at your ass." She admitted and stared some more.

"What do you think?"

"Can't…really think right now."

Damon turned around to give her full frontal and _thank you, Mama Salvatore_.

"What're you doing?" Bonnie was extra proud of herself for sounding so cool.

Damon held up a small bottle and wiggled it. "Apparently massaging tits with warm oil helps with discomfort."

"More research, huh?" Bonnie watched him throw back the covers and stack together several pillows on one side of the bed. "You're a closet geek, you know that?"

Damon held out a hand to her. "I don't like seeing you uncomfortable. And this way, I at least get to touch 'em."

Such a man, Bonnie thought wryly as he enveloped her in a lengthy, affectionate hug. He rubbed his nose in her hair and kissed her widow's peak before drawing back. "Alright, woman, off with the gown."

Damon helped her draw the nightie over her head and now it was his turn to drool. "Mercy." He snapped the band of the black lace boy shorts and tweaked her rump as Bonnie laughed. Then he helped her lie down, propping the pillows behind her head until she was comfortable. "I'm gonna need you to be very still. I paid a grip for these sheets and if you get oil on them, I'm gonna have to spank you."

"Then I'm getting oil on these sheets." Bonnie said defiantly and laughed again as he pretended to be scandalized. She drew her arms up to rest over her head as he sat on the edge of the bed and Bonnie's eyes couldn't help but fall to crotch again. "Can you cover that thing up? It's distracting."

"That's the point." Damon countered as he poured oil from a warmer into his palm.

She closed her eyes to block him from view, anticipation making her tremble. There was the faint sound of palms rubbing together, then his hands were cupping her breasts and Bonnie jerked at the contact.

"Relax, babe."

She tried, breathing in deeply and exhaling slowly as he massaged, carefully avoiding her nipples. His hands glided under her breasts, around the sides and over the tops, kneading firmly but gently with each pass and Bonnie almost wept with relief. She would never tease him about his obsessive researching again.

One of his hands drifted lower.

"Hey hey." Bonnie admonished, swatting his hand away. "Finish taking care of the girls first."

"You don't know what you look like."

She reached for him, hand hitting his chest and sliding down his abs to take him in hand. He was hot and hard and she stroked him from the base to tip before bringing her arm to rest above her head again. "Feels like I look pretty good."

His voice was strained and tinged with humor. "You're a bad girl, Bonnie Bennett."

For a delicious stretch, he massaged her breasts until Bonnie was so languid that she was floating close to sleep. Then his mouth closed over a nipple and the switch was flipped. Damon held it in his mouth, keeping his tongue flat against it to let the warmth soothe the itchy flesh. All the while he kept kneading and squeezing and soon Bonnie was teetering on the edge. His mouth latched onto the other nipple and she heard his fingers dipping into the oil again, then they were sliding into her panties.

Bonnie's hips surged upward, thighs tightening around his hand and then falling open again as she clutched thick tufts of Damon's hair. His fingers were slick and warm and skillful as they circled and flicked and thrust. That ever-present ache in her quim burst and the climax was luscious and just shy of painful as she flexed around Damon's fingers.

She opened her eyes as he took her mouth and held her gaze as they kissed. Despite Bonnie's impatience, Damon took his sweet time enjoying her mouth until she was on the verge of another climax. He dragged the panties down her legs, planting wet, open mouth kisses on her belly and hips and thighs. His palms caressed her bump as he rubbed his face back and forth against her belly, scruff tickling her skin. And she didn't want to think it because it was much too soon, but she felt _loved_. Exalted.

Bonnie wanted him to feel the same, finally taking control and lavishing him with the same detailed attention…licking the length of the vein running through a bicep, nuzzling his sac, sucking on the crease between thigh and pelvis, using the oil on him in some interesting places. The sheets did get messy then and as promised, he spanked her ass when she climbed onto his lap and took him inside her. They were breasts to chest, the slight discomfort of his pecs rubbing her nipples outweighed by the pleasure building in her snatch. They moved together in languid grind-thrust-bounce sync, but once the tension began to build, they were at cross purposes. Damon wanted it slow and easy, Bonnie needed it fast and hard. With foreheads touching and eyes mating, they battled until a sweet, gushy climax forced Bonnie to concede and Damon finally let go minutes later.

They dissolved into twisted tangle of limbs and sheets as Bonnie curled against Damon's side and he draped an arm across her hip, hand settling possessively on an ass cheek. Bonnie was a satiated bundle of emotions and…

_What's going on down here?_

Hand against her belly, she marveled at the tiny flurry of sensation whirling in her belly. "Flutters."

Damon turned his head to grin lazily at her, voice a rough rumble of sexual contentment. "I have that effect on women."

Bonnie jabbed his shin with her foot. "This bed's not big enough for me, you and that ego. I feel actual _movement_. Like bubbles popping."

"Oh yeah." Damon's head lolled towards the ceiling, eyes drifting closed. "Quickening. Usually happens between sixteen and twenty-two weeks. He's about this big." He used a thumb and forefinger as illustration and then his hand fell to rest on his abs again. "Probably in there turning flips and shit."

"Nerd."

"Or you could have gas."

"Jackass."

He shifted to face her, cupping the back of her head and pressing a series of reverent kisses to her forehead. Then he slipped a thigh between hers and she tucked her face against his throat as he drew the covers up over them.

"Get some sleep. I'm waking you up in…" Damon lifted his head and glanced over his shoulder at the digital clock on the nightstand. "…about an hour."

"Please. You got nothing left."

"Poor girl." He patted her bottom with a yawn. "You were warned."

His head hit the pillow and sleep claimed him soon after. Bonnie envied his ability to drift off so fast, especially as she lay awake worrying about what this relationship might or might not turn into instead of just enjoying it for what it was. As soon as she talked herself off that nonsensical ledge, she fell asleep.

She woke up what seemed like minutes later with Damon's head between her thighs. And she realized she probably should be more worried about her stamina at this point.

 

* * *

 

"You're glowing." Caroline sidelong glanced at Bonnie as they were flipping through a rack of tops. "The sex must be pretty amazing."

"I _could_ be glowing because I'm pregnant." Bonnie mined her tote for a makeshift fan. "Or because it's hot in here."

It was Friday at the mall during the holidays, of course it would be packed. Too many bodies jockeying for position at the sales racks and the temperature hiked up to counter the frigid cold outside. If Bonnie hadn't needed new bras, she would've made tracks back to Damon's place after she'd left work. But Caroline had wanted to hang and since Damon was at some business thing, here she was, withering in this retail sauna.

"Nope. That glow is from having your back knocked out and I approve." Caroline slung an arm over the rack, growing suddenly serious. " _But_ …"

Bonnie waited warily as she fanned herself with a crumpled prenatal pamphlet.

"Your mom thinks you might be moving too fast."

Anger simmered as Bonnie ignored the microsecond of dizziness. "You've been talking to mom?"

"No, _my_ mom's been talking to _your_ mom and now _my_ mom's worrying and asking questions about Damon. She could be just nosing around for Abby."

Rolling her eyes, Bonnie continued to shift through the tops. "She's put out because I'm not staying with her."

"But does she have a point? About you moving too fast?"

See if Bonnie weren't a pragmatic person, she'd agree that her mother _did_ have a point. A woman with her head in the clouds could be fooled by this morning's goodness. Waking up way too early and engaging in transcendent morning sex. Having breakfast made for her. Being dropped off at work with a kiss and "See you later." She loved being doted on. Couldn't remember the last time a man had treated her so reverently.

But she had no illusions that this relationship experimentation could easily end once one or the both of them messed up. And, just keeping things real, Bonnie was old hat at fucking up relationships. Damon might have player in his DNA, but she'd probably be the one to blow it all to hell.

Moving things too fast though?

"Things are nice and uncomplicated in some areas. Kinda complicated in others. But…shit, I don't know." Bonnie was at a loss to describe what the hell she and Damon were doing. "We're in this weird place where we're either dating and having a baby on the side or having a baby and dating on the side. Know what I mean?"

"No." Caroline's smile was empathetic.

"Me neither." Bonnie sighed, slinging a blouse with potential over her arm and fanning herself again as heat suffused her face. "We don't really talk about it."

"Cause you're too busy schtupping?"

"Louder, Caroline, I want the whole store to know my business." Bonnie glanced around at the other shoppers. "I don't know why we don't talk, we just…don't."

"Maybe you should."

Oh hell no. "Nope. He's got issues and I've got issues. It's easier to keep things simple." She felt herself listing sideways and jolted upright.

"What the fuck? Are you okay?" Caroline swiped a palm across Bonnie's damp forehead.

"I'm alright, it's just _hot_ in here. And I'm more worried about you."

The real reason for the shopping trip was Caroline wanting to announce in person that her wedding had been postponed. Apparently Klaus couldn't navigate the merger of his pharmaceutical company and pay attention to his bride-to-be at the same time.

"Hey, Klaus and I are _fine_." Caroline kept a hand on Bonnie's back as they moved to a display of jeans. "I'd rather him be focused on the wedding than taking business calls during the rehearsal dinner or the honeymoon. Seriously, it's all good."

"Well." Bonnie let her jacket slide down her arms and fanned faster. "The baby will be…here by…then. I should be able to fit…this ass…into…"

 

* * *

 

At the end of hour two, the meeting finally adjourned and Damon's mood was as black as his Versace suit. Lily and Stefan lingered to talk to Salvatore Holdings' portfolio manager while Damon escaped to his mother's office. They wanted to expand the company's holdings and Lily thought he should give a fuck. She'd begged him to just sit in, provide a little feedback. He'd caved because Stefan had begged him to cut their mother some slack. And Damon was trying because he _could_ sometimes be cruel in those rare moments when he reverted back to the emotionally underdeveloped, violent man child he'd been.

Still, it'd been five years of radio silence on the subject of him returning to the company and now all of a sudden Lily was scheming to get him involved again. Damon wanted nothing to do with this shit. Couldn't fathom why his mother worked so hard to keep alive the company of a man who used to beat her unconscious. Fuck Giuseppe's legacy.

The only bright spot in this shit day was that he would see Bonnie later and he could devote the rest of the weekend to her and making plans for his son, _his_ legacy.

As he sprawled in the chair opposite Lily's corner office desk, Damon glowered at his watch. He was going to give them exactly fifteen minutes of his generic opinion before he pulled chocks. Intent on checking in with his main guy at the shop, he dug out his cell and noticed five missed calls from Bonnie. He'd put his phone on silent during the meeting and now he was cursing because five missed calls screamed something was wrong.

Damon was on his feet and pacing as he followed his first instinct to phone her back, but the call went straight to voicemail. He was in the early stages of panic when he checked his own messages and as he listened to the unfamiliar, trembling female voice, his blood ran cold.

" _Hello, this is Bonnie's friend Caroline and she's had an accident…"_

He was moving. People and objects became a blur, surreal and out of focus. Suddenly, he was standing in the hallway with not a clue on how he'd gotten there, stabbing the elevator button repeatedly as he replayed the message and zeroed in on the pertinent information.

"… _accident…Bellevue Memorial..._ "

There were no other messages and another call to Bonnie's phone went to voicemail again. At some point, he registered that his mother and brother were there.

"What's wrong?" Stefan's eyes were wide with alarm as his voice broke through the fog.

"Bonnie's…" Damon could hardly say it. "…been in an accident."

Now Stefan was on _his_ phone and Lily was hustling them all into the elevator and asking Damon questions he had no answers to. His phone was wrenched from his hand and he thought he gave her the correct password to his voicemail and then Lily was screeching and Stefan was barking orders at some poor schmuck and…

Damon was terrified.

In no time, they were in Lily's Jag and her bat-out-of-hell driving roused Damon from his stupor. His phone was pressed to her ear and she was livid.

"Why does no one _answer_?" She wailed, cutting the wheel sharply and sending the car careening around a corner.

"Shit!" Stefan slid across the back seat and banged into the passenger door. "Slow down, mom!"

"Don't slow down." Damon yanked his phone away as a cab lumbered in front of the Jag and Lily lay on the horn.

By some miracle, they arrived at the hospital safely and wasted no time booking it to the emergency room. There were far too many people jammed in the waiting area, but Damon spotted Bonnie's cousin towering over a group of women and sprinted towards her.

"Hey…she's okay." Lucy hurried forward to greet him, squeezing his shoulder reassuringly. "She's _okay_."

The terror notched down a degree, but Damon's voice was hard and blunt. "Is the baby alright? What happened?"

"The baby's fine. She took a little fall and Caroline overreacted." Lucy glanced back at the group of women, who were regarding Damon with interest.

"I'm sorry." A pretty blonde moved next to Lucy, eyes red and mascara wrecked. "I panicked."

"That's no excuse for leaving such a vague message and then not answering the phone when we tried to call back." Lily snapped behind Damon.

" _Mom_." Stefan's voice was firm and full of warning.

A woman bearing a resemblance to Bonnie moved protectively in front of the blonde and glared at Lily. "I'm sorry, who are you?"

"Cuz, calm down."

"I'm Damon's mother and -"

"Mom, _please_ -"

"- there's simply no excuse for -"

"Well I'm _Bonnie's_ mother and _you_ need to back off!"

"Excuse me?"

As a verbal skirmish broke out around him, Damon closed his eyes and ploughed agitated fingers through his hair. If he didn't get some answers soon, he was going to start tearing shit up.

"Grandmas, go to separate corners please." An older black woman was now standing between all of them, no nonsense look pinging back and forth between Lily and Bonnie's mother. Their drama had drawn an audience and she was not pleased. When neither woman moved, her dark eyes flashed and her voice hardened. "I'm the head grandma in charge here and I said _go…to…separate…corners_."

Stefan hustled Lily a few feet away and Lucy placed an arm around Bonnie's mother to move them in the opposite direction. The woman approached Damon and he felt as if he should be kneeling or pledging his sword to her service. Her hair was a halo of salt and pepper curls and her eyes, though brown, reminded him of Bonnie's. She was regal and luminous.

"I'm Sheila Bennett, Bonnie's grandmother. But you don't care about that right now, do you?" Damon tried to protest, but she held up a hand. "It's alright. I'm not easily offended. Your priority is the same as mine. Bonnie got a little dizzy and fell and bumped her head. But Caroline took the brunt of it when she tried to catch her so it wasn't too bad."

Damon glanced at the blonde and noticed for the first time that her wrist was wrapped.

"Now we're just waiting for test results to make sure there's no serious head trauma, but she's otherwise okay and the baby is more than fine."

The logical side of Damon's brain asserted itself. Bonnie was fine. The baby was fine. He had a lot of other questions, the cause for the dizziness one of them, but he wanted the answers directly from Bonnie and whoever the attending physician was.

Taking a deep breath, he scrubbed a hand across his face and gave Sheila a grateful nod. "Thank you."

"You're welcome. You and I are going to have a nice long talk later."

_Fuck._

"But for now, I'm sure you want to see Bonnie." Sheila linked an arm through his and led him down a hallway towards a set of double doors.

Damon turned to glare a warning at his mother, but Stefan seemed to have the situation under control. He was leading Lily over to Bonnie's friend, no doubt to apologize.

They passed the nurses station and outside of one of the several rooms lining the wide hallway, Bonnie's grandmother had him wait while she went inside. A moment later, she emerged with two men Sheila introduced as Bonnie's grandfather Myles and her brother Jaime. The younger man's greeting was subdued. Understandable given he'd been there the night Damon had walked out on Bonnie. But the older man was congenial, smiling as he firmly shook Damon's hand.

"It's good to finally meet you. If baby girl's feeling up to it, you should come to Sunday dinner with her so we can get to know you better."

Damon offered as enthusiastic a response as he could drum up and was relieved when they finally dropped the niceties and allowed him to enter the small exam room. Bonnie was propped up in a narrow hospital bed, still dressed in the clothes she'd been wearing this morning, looking extremely healthy and over the whole situation. All the anxiety seeped out of Damon and because she looked so irritated, he put his own emotions on mute.

"We having fun yet?" His hands were in his pockets as he sauntered towards the bed.

Bonnie snorted and threw up a hand in frustration. The other was IV'd, though she wasn't currently attached to a machine or receiving any fluids. "Everyone's overreacting. I'm surprised they haven't called for last rites." She let her head fall back against the bed and gave him an appreciative once over. "You look pretty."

"Grazie." Damon sat down next to her and she scooted over to make room for him. He leaned forward and kissed her brow, rubbing her belly to reassure himself and to try and ease the strain evident in the narrow slant of her eyes. "Wanna tell me what happened?"

Because she'd obviously told this story one time too many, Bonnie's tone was annoyed and mechanical. "I went shopping for bras and -"

"Why?"

She frowned in confusion. "Why what?"

"Were you shopping for bras?" He dipped his head to nuzzle a breast. "Not like you'll need one."

She pushed his head away, the shadow of a smile on her lips. "You gonna take me in this hospital bed?"

"If the door locks and you can be quieter than you were this morning."

The smile grew wider, actually reaching her eyes. And now that she was less tense…

"What happened?"

As she told him how it had gone down, it was clear that this was simply a case of pregnancy doing a number on her. The end of these nagging early symptoms couldn't come soon enough.

"I'm sorry you got pulled out of your meeting." She played with his sleeve, weary and clearly ready to blow this joint.

"It was already over." He twirled his finger around a tight curl. "And by the way -"

The sound of the exam room door sliding open snagged their attention and peeking inside, wearing an expression of faux innocence, was Lily. She couldn't care less about Damon at this point. Her machinating eyes were set firmly on Bonnie.

"I didn't mean to intrude."

"How'd you get loose?" Damon was unable to keep the pissed out of his voice. "Stefan tied up in a closet somewhere?"

"You really are adorable." Lily stepped inside the room, blistering Damon with a look he hadn't seen since grade school. "I know I raised you with manners. I'm sure they're not wedged so deeply that you can't pull out one or two of them."

He could feel Bonnie's body shaking and turned to find her regarding him with poorly restrained mirth. That earned her a smack on the hip and then Damon stood and gestured towards the bane of his existence. "Bonnie, this is my mother, Lillian. Lils, this is Bonnie Bennett."

Bonnie's name was barely out of his mouth before Lily was pushing Damon aside and taking his place on the bed. "It's so wonderful to finally meet you, Bonnie. Such a beautiful girl."

"Thank you." Bonnie's smile was polite and reserved, though Damon could tell she was as curious about Lily as his mother was about her. "It's nice to meet you too."

"How are you feeling?"

"I'm fine, really. The fall wasn't that bad."

"I'm glad. Damon was so frantic when he got the news."

A lot of guilt crossed Bonnie's features as she shifted eyes to him. _Nice going, Lily._

"How is the little one doing?" Lily's hand came to rest on the baby and then she quickly drew it back. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to -"

"It's okay." Bonnie's smile was genuine this time. "He's yours too."

That was the moment Lily fell in love.

"Oh, that's sweet of you to say." Lily gave Bonnie a hug. A real one, not the emotionally detached, barely touching number she reserved for so called friends and acquaintances. She released Bonnie with a smile and squeezed her hand. "Damon's probably wearing his _'Mother, please'_ face, so I'll be on my way."

Bonnie's lips twisted. "Thank you for coming."

"Of course, honey." Lily gave the baby bump a gentle rub and then stood. "If you're feeling better, come with Damon to dinner next Thursday. Or if not, I'm sure I'll see you at the gala next month." At Bonnie's blank expression, Lily turned to Damon. "You didn't tell her about the gala?"

"Wasn't planning on going." Damon wasn't even sure why he was trying to fight it. Like he really had a say in where he'd be the second Saturday in December.

"You know how special this event is to me. It's the last one of the year and supports a very important charity."

"More Romanian porn stars?"

"They were _Hungarian_. And it's the women's shelter, as it is _every_ year. Either make an appearance or endure me kvetching about it for the rest of your life."

"Yes, Lily, I'll make an appearance." Damon placated, looping an arm around her and turning her towards the door. "Let me walk you out." He glanced at Bonnie, who was all out tickled now. "Be back in a minute."

In the waiting room, Damon found Stefan chatting up Caroline and he was in full mack mode. Did little brother not see the Rock of Gibraltar on Barbie's left hand? Lily went straight to her to apologize again and Caroline, though understandably hesitant, didn't appear to be holding a grudge. Bonnie's mother, however, was still heated. She marched by them without a word and Damon was sure she was on her way to tell Bonnie about Lily's shenanigans.

_Fuck me ten times over for not doing it myself._

Once he'd seen Stefan and Lily off, Damon made his way back inside the hospital waiting room. Bonnie's family was gathered together in conversation and Lucy waved him over.

"No concussion and they're releasing her soon." Lucy announced with relief.

Damon didn't even have time to respond as Abby Bennett began pulling rank.

"You can all head home." Abby's gaze was pointed as it swung towards Damon. "I'll stay until they release her. Take her home with me so I can keep an eye on her."

The hush that descended was uncomfortably charged as Damon and Abby stared at each other. He kept his stance casual, hands fisting in his pockets, features overly blank to hide his anger. Everyone probably knew that Bonnie was staying with him, so Abby's power play was telling. He was sure he was being weighed and found lacking and he really didn't give a fuck.

"She's got clothes at my place." Damon could be pointed too.

"Okay."

"Should I bring them over or…?" And he was being totally sarcastic here.

"Don't worry about it." Abby ignored the snark. "I'll swing by her apartment and pick up some things."

Another spell of popcorn-worthy silence ensued and then a different voice entered the mix.

"Abby Marie Bennett."

The way her whole demeanor changed was fascinating. "Yes, sir?"

"Let this young man take care of baby girl like he's supposed to." Myles' voice was pitched with just the right amount of empathy and admonishment.

It must've taken a lot for Abby to concede to the fucker who'd knocked her daughter up. But concede she did, announcing that she was going to say goodbye to Bonnie and taking off.

Having to play nice with someone else's family was one of many reasons he'd avoided relationships. But dealing with the Bennetts was something Damon was going to have to get used to for his son's sake, no matter what happened with him and Bonnie. That was made all the more clearer when each and every Bennett made sure they had his number before leaving.

They were completely wasted once Bonnie was finally released. Not long after arriving at the apartment, Bonnie was soaking in the tub and Damon was ordering takeout. After scarfing down dinner, Bonnie was in bed and Damon was in the shower. It wasn't even nine yet and he was sliding under the covers with her, shifting to lie on his side in the cozy bed with a long and grateful sigh. When had he turned into this tired old man?

With Bonnie pressed against his back and sleeping deeply, Damon was seconds away from snoozing himself when his phone went off. He ignored it, punching his pillow several times and then sinking his face into it. When it buzzed again, Damon opened one eye and glared at it before snatching it off the nightstand. There were two text messages and as he read the one from Stefan, his eye rolled.

_If it's not weird could you ask Bonnie kinda chill like if Caroline is married or just engaged and if just engaged how long until wedding?_

Lily's message was much more direct.

_Marry her._

And this was his life.

 

* * *

 

Caroline and Jaime arrived at Damon Salvatore's apartment early Sunday evening. Most of Bonnie's family had been fretting over her via too many text messages, especially when she'd opted to forego Sunday dinner so she could spend the day catching up on sleep. She'd invited her best friend and brother over, with Damon's blessing, so they could see for themselves that she was fine. Caroline wasn't as concerned as the Bennetts, but she did want a chance to learn more about Damon. Make sure he wasn't as assholey as he'd seemed at the hospital.

They were greeted at the door by the hot younger brother, crush worthy in a tan Henley and jeans. He'd been gorgeous in the Brioni power suit he'd been wearing at the hospital, but it should be a sin to hide biceps like the ones rippling under that snug fabric. His smile could melt panties and combined with the ninja eyes he was giving her? Caroline could feel her girl bits responding and she fingered her engagement ring to remind herself that her wild and single party girl days were over.

"How's your wrist?" Stefan asked as he led them into the living area.

"A lot better, thanks." Caroline glanced around the apartment. It was very male and suited its occupant to a T. "Where's Bonnie?"

"Sleeping." Damon's voice was pitched low as he walked into the room. He was dressed much like his brother, only his shirt was black and his feet were bare.

Caroline was struck again by the fact that the Salvatores looked nothing alike. They were about the same height and build, but there the similarities ended. Stefan was dark blonde, Damon was raven-haired. Stefan's eyes were a mutable blue-gray-green while Damon's were pale blue and striking. Stefan was more ruggedly handsome, Damon was more classically beautiful. The elder brother had obviously gotten his looks from their mother, who had that whole hot older woman thing going for her. Stefan had to have taken after their father. She couldn't glean much on the personalities yet, but Stefan definitely seemed more likeable.

"I just talked to her an hour ago." Jaime was saying. "She told me she'd just gotten out of bed."

"Yeah, she does that. She'll be awake in…" Damon glanced at the broad silver watch on his wrist. "…half an hour maybe."

"You don't think they misdiagnosed her, do you?" Caroline worried.

Damon shook his head. "Remember there's a little badass inside her soaking up all her energy."

"I've been trying to meet her all weekend." Stefan put in with a wry smile. "Every time I get here, she's down for the count."

"Lucy sent her some muffins." Jaime handed Damon a small bag with the shop's logo printed on the front. "And some coffee Bonnie told her you were addicted to."

"Hell. Yes." Damon drew out the coffee, pressed his nose against the package and inhaled deeply, near orgasmic as he moved into the kitchen.

"If you're staying, let me get your coats." Stefan said, obviously comfortable playing host in his brother's home. "You guys want a drink?"

Stefan disappeared down the hallway with their jackets and Caroline's purse. Jaime took a seat on the dark gray sectional while Caroline wandered towards the kitchen. Damon was skillfully cracking eggs into a pile of flour on the granite countertop.

"What're you making?"

"Tagliatelle."

"Show off." Stefan returned and perused the bottles of wine in an overhead rack. "You already got the girl, man."

Damon said something in perfect guttural Italian, Stefan retorted in equally perfect Italian and they both creased up with laughter. Sexiest shit Caroline had seen in a _long_ time.

His expression smoothed out and now Damon was regarding her seriously. "You wanna go check on her?"

Underneath all the pretty lurked a wiseass, but Damon seemed to be mostly a good guy. One who genuinely cared about Bonnie. He was nothing like that bitch Enzo and Caroline would make sure to offer this view to Abby, who'd been sowing the seeds of suspicion about Damon since the night Bonnie had ditched her mother to stay with him.

"It's not that I don't believe you when you say she's fine." Caroline wanted to nix any potential drama because he _was_ Bonnie's kinda sorta boyfriend.

"It's cool." Damon's mouth ticked up in a half smile and he jerked his head towards the hallway. "Last door on the left."

As she turned to go, she caught Stefan smoldering at her like he wanted to bang her into next week. Caroline hurried away from temptation because she was very easy prey with her wedding postponed and her fiancé out of town on business for the _third_ fucking time this month. She rested her forehead against the bedroom door and took a deep breath before entering as quietly as possible.

Bonnie was a small mound in the middle of a large bed. She was buried under a thick duvet and the only things visible were a foot and a tuft of curls. Caroline tipped around to the other side and bent low, peeling back a corner of the duvet to reveal Bonnie's face. Girlfriend was sleeping _good_. Color looked normal, breathing was even. Caroline could relax now. Nothing had been as terrifying as catching Bonnie mid faint only to fall with her and watch Bonnie's head bounce off the ground.

After tucking the duvet around the exposed foot, Caroline crept towards the door and she wasn't trying to be nosey, but she couldn't help but notice the personal minutiae scattered about the space. Bonnie's shoes were under a chair and a bra and a man's shirt were draped over the back. A few pieces of women's jewelry rested near a wallet on top of the dresser. The early evening light from the windows cast the room in a soft glow. There was a very intimate, sensual vibe going on in here and Caroline was almost embarrassed to be there. That Damon had let her invade his and Bonnie's privacy to make _Caroline_ feel better said a lot about his feelings.

And even if they were moving too fast, if it worked for Damon and Bonnie, who were any of them to judge?

When she returned to the living area, two new people were there. A good looking black guy who was trading barbs with Stefan and a chocolate skinned woman with long, dark hair and the face of Nefertiti.

"So you just happened to be in the area?" Damon asked, sarcasm heavy on his tongue. The flour and egg mixture was now a large ball of dough and as he worked it back and forth over the countertop, he cocked a skeptical brow at the couple.

"Yeah, I was texting Stefan and he said he was here and _hey._ " Dude sidestepped Damon's question to focus on Caroline. "Who's this lovely lady?"

Stefan did the honors, handing Caroline a glass of wine as he introduced Sidra and Marcel Gerard. They greeted her with genuine warmth, but she wasn't the main attraction here.

"Okay I'm gonna keep it solid." Marcel chuckled. "We came by because we wanted to meet the newest member of the family."

"No shit." Damon cracked.

"Well Bonnie's asleep and Damon's not about to wake her up for our mangy asses." Stefan winked at Caroline and _stahp it_. "I guess you two are staying for dinner?"

"Your brother's making pasta, what do you think?" Sidra said as her husband helped her out of her coat. "That ring is a stunner."

"Thank you." Caroline beamed, lifting her hand as Sidra moved closer to admire the square cut diamond.

"Your work?" Marcel glanced at Jaime.

" _Hell_ no. Girl's too high maintenance." Jaime almost dropped his beer as he ducked Caroline's swipe. "Plus, it'd be like marrying my sister."

Stefan returned with a rum and coke for Marcel and wine for Sidra. They sat around talking, the guys' attention drawn every now and then to the basketball game on the large flat screen. Sidra and Caroline talked wedding plans while Damon coaxed mouthwatering aromas out of whatever he was cooking.

When the doorbell sounded again, Damon came out of the kitchen, wiping hands on a dishtowel as he sent an accusatory scowl his brother's way. "Now who could this be?"

It was another couple, older, early forties maybe? Damon introduced them as Jo and Ric Saltzman and their fake surprise at finding Sidra and Marcel there was a knee slapper. Then Jo tried it.

"We were out running errands nearby and just thought we'd stop in."

Damon crossed his arms and stared at her with exaggerated sternness. "Josette Parker Saltzman."

The poor thing crumbled under the weight of her full name. She shifted guilty eyes towards Marcel and pointed. "He told us we could come over."

And then shit got real. One couple pointed fingers at the other couple and both couples pointed fingers at Stefan. It escalated into a hilarious slanging match, with Damon as the maniacal instigator. All Jaime and Caroline could do was laugh in astonishment and move out of the way as things got choppy. Friends or no, they were going _in._ It was the most bat shit crazy group ass dragging Caroline had ever witnessed, made all the more priceless when they spotted Bonnie standing at the entrance to the hallway, what-the-fuck confusion in her sleepy eyes.

"Shit." Damon winced as he started towards Bonnie and everyone else seemed to move as one behind him.

To her credit, Bonnie didn't appear overwhelmed at meeting so many people at once. Damon's friends were cognizant of how powerful a presence they were and gave her space so she could spend a moment with her brother and best friend. But all bets were off once dinner was served and even Damon couldn't get near her. Sidra maneuvered Bonnie between herself and Ric at the long floating dining table and because they were all teachers, they got caught up discussing the declining state of the education system.

Conversation and wine flowed as they inhaled humongous platters of pasta and caprese salad and glorious, glorious bread. Caroline wanted to cry because it had been weeks since she'd eaten carbs and she supposed it was a good thing she didn't have to worry about fitting into her wedding dress for a few months. Plus, she was having fun. Hanging out with Damon's people was a lot like hanging out with the Bennetts. They were loud and affectionate, teased each other mercilessly, talked lots of smack, and lauded new accomplishments just like a real family.

Then there was Stefan, as delicious as his brother's cooking. Because the universe liked to fuck with her, Caroline wound up sitting next to him. But throughout dinner, he kept it friendly and respectful, the earlier smolder completely gone. Caroline wondered if she'd just imagined his interest.

She did get some more time with Bonnie before things broke up and people began leaving. Jaime had left long ago and Caroline assumed his latest girl was the reason. Unfortunately, that forced Caroline to share an elevator ride alone with Stefan. The smolder returned full force and she wasn't surprised when he placed a staying hand on her arm in the lobby and suggested the expected.

"We should exchange numbers." He said, pulling out his phone.

Raising her left hand, Caroline wiggled her fingers and her engagement ring sparkled on cue.

"As unfortunate as that is…"

She ripped him with a glare.

"…for _me_." Stefan said quickly, grin sheepish. "I was thinking we could get together when the time comes to throw a baby shower for Bonnie and Damon."

Oh…well… _hmm_. Though it was months away, Caroline already had Bonnie's baby shower mostly planned. Custom made cupcakes, a crystal and flower crown, special bouquets for the grandmothers, an elaborate three tiered, multi-flavored cake. All decorated in very tasteful pale blue and cream. But a couples' shower could be cool and the baby would get way more presents with a larger guest list.

"Sounds like a plan." Caroline nodded as he handed her his phone.

She could feel his eyes on her as she entered her contact information and it made her pulse quicken.

"You get what you needed up there?"

Caroline's head snapped up with a frown. "What I needed?"

His expression was shrewd. "You didn't come here just to see Bonnie."

Stands to reason he'd pick up on the Damon reconnaissance as much as he'd been checking her out.

"And?" Caroline wasn't even sorry as she gave him back his phone.

"And you don't have to worry about Damon doing anything to hurt her."

"Says dude-in-question's brother."

"I can be neutral when I need to be. As far as Bonnie is concerned?" He struggled for the right words and then said, features sincere, "Don't take this the wrong way. But if something went down. _If._ She'd probably break his heart before he'd break hers."

If Bonnie held that much power in the relationship, it was a good thing.

"Let's hope it doesn't come to that."

"Yeah." Stefan held the door open for her as they stepped outside into the frigid November evening. "Where do you live?"

"Uptown."

"Me too. You wanna split a cab?"

_No._

That's what she should have said, but he smiled at her and he was really nice when he wasn't trying to fuck with her equilibrium. Besides, Caroline could always use another friend. She should have said no when he suggested having lunch the next day too but _fuck._

He was really nice.

************


	7. I Met A Little Girl

None of the chaos she’d left behind greeted Bonnie when she opened the door to her apartment. Furniture was still pushed against the walls, but the dry cleaned area rug was lying over freshly buffed wood floors and blessed heat flowed from the new radiator beneath the window. Immediately the peace and normalcy of being in her own space again began to ease the heavy knot in her chest. Damon edged by her on his way to the bedroom with the bags she’d accumulated during their brief foray into cohabitation. And he was still in his feelings when he returned and wordlessly began moving the furniture back into place.

Bonnie watched him intently as she unwound her scarf and tugged off her gloves. She should probably be the one to extend the olive branch since she’d started last night’s ugliness. But pride and resentment made her hesitate because seriously, how much of an asshole did you have to be to go off on someone for caring?

Done angling a bookcase into a corner, Damon scrutinized his handiwork before finally swinging that unnerving visage her way. Brows were slanted low over eyes that had gone ghostly pale with his mood. He looked like some sort of phantasmal being, all supernatural and shit.

“You need anything?”

Suppressed anger was very much present in that dry ass tone. He’d been like this when he’d gone to bed last night too. With his back to her and a chasm between them.

“I’m good.” Bonnie’s brow hiked. “You good?”

“Five by five.” He responded and douche-swaggered to the door. “I’ll pick you up tomorrow around ten.”

“You don’t have to.”

He paused with a hand on the knob, tone ripe with impatience. “Your grandparents expect me. I got two texts from Myles asking about my liquor preferences, I can’t bail on them.”

“You can’t sit at Sheila Bennett’s table with that attitude either.”

With a long sigh, he leaned against the door and the scowl loosened some. He looked as weary as she felt. “I can fake it for a couple hours.”

Bonnie said nothing as she filled a kettle and dropped it on a burner to heat. She rifled through a cupboard for chamomile, the tension ticking up a couple notches as an equally taciturn Damon tracked her every move. He’d said some nasty things to her last night and she had a feeling an apology was incoming if that stoic expression was anything to go by.

“We wouldn’t be here if you’d left things alone.”

She should just stick to reading her students.

“Okay, Damon.”

Why was he looking heavenward? He sure as hell wasn’t the one who needed strength right now. Bonnie yanked a spoon out of a drawer and slammed it shut and when she glanced his way again, the scowl had returned. Hers was just as salty.

“There’s shit that’s off limits, Bonnie.”

She wasn’t up for another fight, but…

“I’m supposed to see those things and not--”

Nah, she was done. The fuzzy feeling in her head said so. She braced her hands on the counter and took a couple of deep breaths until she was a scoche calmer.

“You okay?” Damon was all contrite now as the anger gave way to concern.

“Honestly? No. You make me tired.” Bonnie turned her back to him and reached into an upper cabinet for a cup. “I thought you were leaving?”

He left. Pulled the door closed very quietly behind him after mumbling some incoherent bull she didn’t want to hear anyway. Bonnie felt a little relieved to be honest. And fuck crying because she’d done too much of that already while holed up in the bathroom this morning. She did brood though. Over tea, two muffins and an omelet the size of a mountain. She was going to be _so_ fat.

Fatigue sent her to the sofa for a nap and when she woke up it was only late afternoon. Way too much of this cold, gray day left and Bonnie could see herself spending the rest of it rehashing and regretting and overeating if she didn’t find something to occupy her mind. So she bundled up in woolen layers and Ubered to the brownstone where she’d spent most of her childhood.

Grams usually had potted plants flanking the wide stone steps, but the November cold snap was not playing. By the time Bonnie let herself in, she was chilled to the bone, shivering uncontrollably and wishing she’d stayed home. But making up for the discomfort was the immediate and pleasurable hit to her senses. Cozy warmth. The delicious aromas of nutmeg and sage. The precious family photos displayed proudly on the staircase wall. And Marvin.

 _This is the story of two lovers who shouldn't have been_  
_They did their thing and went their separate ways again_  
_Then by chance they met at the neighborhood dance_  
_And got that old feeling all over again_  
_He said, “How much I've missed it since I had you”_

She tipped towards the living room to peek in and there were her grandparents. Pressed together, swaying slowly, laughing softly. She’d lost count of the number of times she or another member of the family had found them this way. And Bonnie’s troubles seemed to instantly disappear at the sight of them being eternally in love.

“I’ll never understand how mom is an only child.” Bonnie commented loudly, smirking pointedly at the hand covering Grams’ backside.

“Baby.” Myles sent Sheila twirling and pulled her in close again. “We have _got_ to change those locks.”

Sheila laughed and tucked her head under his chin. “You’ve got sweet potato pies to make anyway.”

“But I got a taste for a different kind of pie.”

“Oh…” Bonnie slapped palms over her ears. “… _my_ God.”

The old folks had a good chuckle at her expense. Eyes lit with mischief and satisfaction, Myles released his wife, two-stepped towards his granddaughter and pulled her into an affectionate hug. “That’ll teach you to knock.”

“Lesson learned.” Bonnie returned his embrace and let him help her out of her coat.

“This baby’s grown a lot in only a few days.” Sheila’s was amazed as she spanned Bonnie’s middle. “Are you sure you’re only four months?”

“I’m almost five.” Bonnie said defensively.

“Almost five sure looks like seven. When Lucy sends you extras from the shop, you _can_ say no.”

“Don’t listen to her, baby girl.” Myles curled his arm around her as they followed Sheila to the kitchen. “You look just like she did when she was carrying your mama. Big as a minute and all belly.”

The mouthwatering smells of Thanksgiving permeated the kitchen. A whole host of sides were going to be prepared in the morning by the rest of the family, but Grams and Pops always made the desserts and the turkey the day before. And of course, just the sight of the smoked-to-perfection bird resting on a sideboard made Bonnie instantly hungry again. “Can I have a bite of something?”

“That half-eaten sandwich on the counter.” Myles gave her a look as he began mashing perfectly boiled sweet potatoes. No one was allowed to touch his turkey before Thanksgiving.

“I’ll make you something.” Sheila swatted her husband and went to the fridge. “What are you doing out in this cold anyway?”

“Bored.” Bonnie sat down at the table she used to push Froot Loops around on as a kid.

“Bored?” Sheila snorted. “Love and cold weather are wasted on the young. How come you’re not booed up somewhere warm with that man of yours?”

Bonnie mumbled a frothy response that had her grandparents sharing a look.

“You two scrapping?” Myles asked gently.

“Something like that.”

“But he’s still coming to dinner tomorrow?”

Bonnie shrugged.

“I shed a lot of duckets on bourbon, he’d better show up or --”

Sheila made a shushing noise and Myles went instantly silent. She removed a plate from the microwave and set it in front of her eldest grandchild.

“Thanks, Grams.”

“Want something to drink?”

“No ma’am.”

Sheila joined her husband at the island and began rolling out pie dough. They stuck to benign topics. Who was coming tomorrow, who was going to keep Great Aunt Pauline in line. Occasionally they’d sing along to the music drifting in from the living room. All the while, their eyes kept straying to Bonnie as she stabbed at a mound of leftover spaghetti. She wished they’d just ask already.

By the time the first set of pies went into the oven, Bonnie was pushing the empty plate away. Myles asked her about work but Bonnie ignored the question to give them the opening they were probably waiting for.

“He’s so…” Bitchmade. But out of respect for her grandparents she used, “…sensitive.”

“Really?” Myles sat down next to Bonnie and nudged the empty mixing bowl towards her. “Sensitive about what?”

“Just…”

Sheila took the other chair next to Bonnie and grandparents watched granddaughter scoop out a ribbon of sweet potato mixture and suck it off her finger.

“Just what, baby girl?” Myles prompted.

“He doesn’t like talking about his childhood.”

“Hell, I don’t blame him.”

Bonnie winced, reminded that Pops’ upbringing had probably been as rough as Damon’s.

Scooping out more sweet potato goo, Bonnie held her finger aloft as her spirit encouraged her to let go. “Something happened and I guess I showed a little too much concern because next thing I know he’s yelling and I’m yelling and…maybe I should’ve listened to him when he told me he didn’t want to talk about it, but we never _talk_ talk, you know…we talk about normal things…the baby, my job, his job, the weather…not about the life experiences that turned you into an over reactionary man baby…I mean, Grams, if you saw something that made you concerned about Pops, wouldn’t you want to know what it was and how it happened and whose ass you needed to kick –- “

“Baby, baby, _baby_.” Sheila slipped a comforting arm around Bonnie and hugged her. “You and Damon have been doing this for how long?”

Bonnie took a deep breath. “About a month.”

“A _month_ and do you know how long it took that man, “ Sheila gestured towards Myles, “to tell me about all the things he went through? Forty-six years. And counting.”

Bonnie looked to Pops for confirmation and he nodded solemnly. He’d never spoken about his childhood to her. She’d always gotten stingy secondhand information from her mom or Grams. About how Pops had grown up with next to no family after his parents had died when he was still an infant. And how the distant relatives he’d been passed between hadn’t really wanted anything to do with him. Because of that, he’d taken on the Bennett name when he’d married Sheila and had never looked back.

“There are men like David who have no problem sharing.”

“ _Over_ sharing.” Myles put in with a shake of his gray head. “That boy is like Oprah with muscles.”

“And then there’s men like your grandfather and Damon. People do things in their own time, you have to respect that. I’m sure when your honey wants you to know something, he’ll tell you. Especially if you’re being reciprocal.”

That last comment, delivered with a raised brow, was a reprimand. Because Bonnie had a problem talking about her own issues, though hers paled in comparison to Damon’s. Now she was feeling sort of stupid about even mentioning her woes, especially with Grams’ using all those possessives. Damon wasn’t her man or honey, at least it didn’t feel that way. They were really just kind of…fucking. Fucking and bonding over the baby. Not really confiding in each like real couples did, couples who wanted their relationship to go beyond laughs and sex. Which _could_ explain the desperation to connect with Damon over his…

_Shit._

“I’m…kinda tired.” Bonnie scooted her chair back and Myles rushed to help her to her feet.

“Go nap in the guestroom.” Sheila insisted. “Jamie’s not bringing Aunt Pauline for another hour or so.”

“No, I think I’m gonna head home. They were talking about snow and I don’t wanna get caught in it.”

“You sure, baby girl?”

They tried to coax Bonnie into staying longer while Myles helped her into her coat and Sheila lovingly twined her scarf around her neck. But now that Bonnie had identified the reason she’d nearly pushed Damon off an emotional ledge, she wanted to go home and console herself with whatever flavor of guilty pleasure was in the freezer.

Somehow though, between the ride home and consumption of half a pint of salted caramel gelato, she’d talked herself out of feeling guilty and into feeling cheated. Because sweet baby moments and mind-numbing orgasms aside, Bonnie wasn’t really satisfied.

She kind of wanted…more.

 

* * *

 

Angelo Salvatore was the oldest living male cousin, so the younger generation called him Uncle. At sixty-seven, he was a blissfully confirmed bachelor and took his patriarchal duties seriously. His heart was as big as the engine in his ’66 Ferrari; he was always coming to the rescue of beleaguered friends and family. The happiest memory of Damon’s troubled formative years had been the summer he’d crashed at Angelo’s before escaping to the safe haven of college.

Hearing the old dude had returned from a three month sojourn in Italy, Damon had gunned it to the city’s outskirts as soon as he’d left Bonnie’s. The split level midcentury house was in solid condition thanks to Angelo’s carpentry skills and his girl was sitting proudly in the driveway, gold metal gleaming in contrast to the gloomy sky. Damon climbed out of the Camaro as the elder Salvatore stepped onto the porch, tanned and nattily groomed as usual, even at this early hour.

“Ciao bello!” As soon as Damon made it to the top step, Angelo hauled him into an overly enthusiastic man hug, pounded his back and kissed his cheeks. “You look good! Impending fatherhood agrees with you.”

“This family can’t hold water. Who told you?”

“Zachary.” He backhanded Damon’s leather covered chest. “You should’ve told me yourself.”

“Maybe if you carried the cell phone Stefan got you --”

“Aaahhh!” Angelo railed at the kvetching and pushed Damon into the house.

“Every time I called, you were out.” Damon tugged off his boots and parked them in the foyer to spare the dated but luxurious cream colored carpet. “You had that much to do in Ancona? Not like its Vegas.”

“But it’s got lots of beautiful widows and now that brings a different kind of excitement.” Angelo waggled thick salt and pepper brows. “You want coffee?”

“I’ve got it.” Damon draped his jacket over a chair and went for the ancient press as Angelo got comfortable at the kitchen table and snapped open a newspaper. It felt like old times and the frustration he’d been feeling since he’d left Bonnie’s was nearly nonexistent.

“So I get to meet the little mamma tomorrow?”

Despite Bonnie’s words to the contrary, Damon still planned on being at the Bennetts. “Actually we’re having Thanksgiving with her family.”

Angelo whistled ominously. “Bet your old lady’s frosted.”

“Lily’s getting us for her big party and Christmas, she’s fine."

“She still chasing puppies?”

“The puppies are chasing her and you watch how you talk about my mother.”

“I got no problem with Lillian enjoying all life has to offer, especially after the way your father treated her.”

Because his parents’ violent relationship was his least favorite subject, he changed it with a quickness. “How was Italy?”

Angelo launched into a vivid tale of his adventures and it had Damon longing to book a flight. His first and only visit to their ancestral village had been at the tender age of twenty-two. He’d spent a month getting to know distant relatives, learning how to cook and enjoying a sexually exhausting romance with a local girl.

“You should take your sweetheart.” Angelo said as he smoothed out the sports section. “Teach her about the family roots.”

Damon’s response was terse and noncommittal. He placed an aromatic cup of French roast in front of Angelo and took the seat across from him with his own. Talk of Bonnie transported him back to their verbal throw down and when he emerged from the memory, Angelo was giving him that look.

“What?”

Angelo jabbed an accusatory finger at his nephew-slash-second cousin. “I know that face. What’d you do?”

If this were Stefan or one of his best friends, Damon would’ve blown off any attempt to get him to bare his soul. But because Uncle Angelo had rescued him from a fuckton of bad life choices, he felt obligated to keep it one hundred.

“We had a…disagreement.” Damon admitted, training his eyes on the sunburst wall clock behind Angelo. His eyes were as dark as Damon’s were light and having them on you when you’d fucked up was demoralizing.

“Disagreement about what?”

“Things I don’t wanna share.”

“Guiseppe things?” Angelo leaned into Damon’s line of vision and at the younger man’s shrug, he sighed. “So that chooch is down there getting speared with hot pitchforks and gnawed on by demon dogs, but he’s still winning. ‘Cause he’s living on inside your head.”

“Bullshit.”

“You forget who you’re talking to? I got this saving your ass from one of his scarier kadoovas.” He yanked aside his collar to reveal a faded and jagged scar just beneath his collarbone. “So don’t try and sell me that dog.”

“He’s _not_ living in my head. People ask me about him, I get twitchy. Doesn’t mean I have issues, I just don’t like talking about him and I get twitchier when people try to _push_ me to talk about him. It’s like you and that neighbor who keeps parking in front of your house.”

“Don’t mention that stronzino to me.” Angelo sputtered, ears enflamed. “Why doesn’t he park in front of the other houses, huh? ‘Cause he thinks I’m just some old fart he can take advantage of but the bastard doesn’t know I can still box with the best of ‘em. Figlio di puttana!”

“Case rested.” Damon smirked behind his mug.

“Now you got me all twisted around when we’re s’posed to be talking about _you_.” Angelo sipped his coffee several times and Damon could see the pistons whirring in his silver head. Then he propped his elbows on the tabled, steepled his hands and said very solemnly, “I think you should get shrinked.”

Damon stabbed fingers into his temple. “It’s not that serious, Uncle Angelo.”

“You got too much going on in that noodle of yours, you need to talk to someone.”

“I’ve got you and Jim Beam to talk to, I’m good.”

“Promise me.”

“I promise I’ll try not to flip when his name comes up, how’s that? It’s all you’re gonna get.”

Angelo stared at him long and hard, but then gave in with a shake of his head. “Whatever fits your tits. Are you at least gonna make up with Bonnie?”

“I want to, but…” Bonnie had so effectively freezed him out, Damon wasn’t sure how she’d respond to an overture. “Pregnant plus pissed is a lethal combo.”

“Eh. Put your knee pads on and blink those pretty peepers at her, she’ll forgive you. You should bring her to dinner next week. What does she like to eat?”

“Everything.” Damon’s grin was probably a little sappy, but he didn’t care. His girl could put it away.

“Look at you with your nose all wide open. It’s a beautiful thing.” Angelo looked like his high school pictures with that sly grin. “How bout I make gnocchi then? And you know, I’ve still got Grandmother Teresa’s ring if you should feel the need to light up her finger.”

“Way too soon, Uncle Angelo.”

And there was that look again.

“But I’m thinking about it.” Damon amended quickly. Though he could see himself in a long-term relationship with her, marriage to Bonnie hadn’t seriously crossed his mind. But Angelo didn’t need to know that.

“Good. Zachary is doing his part to keep the Salvatore name alive, now it’s your turn.” Angelo slowly got to his feet, bum carpenter’s knees fighting against him. He gave Damon a loving but threatening whack on the back of the head before heading for the fridge. “You leave here, you go straight to your woman and make up with her.”

Only Damon didn’t go straight to his woman. If he had, he’d have probably gotten a face full of door and his pride wouldn’t let him suffer that humiliation. He _did_ go home to wallow in misery on the sofa. Hours were spent watching a British comedy marathon as he tried to psyche himself into being the bigger person.

Bonnie beat him to it.

 

* * *

 

Around midnight, Bonnie gave up trying to sleep. Around one, she gave up being the injured party. She grabbed her cell off the nightstand and tapped out a quick message. He was sort of a night owl, a quirk she’d discovered during her stay at his place. She’d roll out of bed to pee in the wee hours of the morning and he’d be scrolling through his phone, reading or sketching inspired ultramodern looking cars. Probably as wide awake as she was.

 **_I can’t sleep_ ** _._

And seconds later…

**_On my way_ **

It was a quarter to two when he texted that he was in the lobby and Bonnie went to the front door to meet him, opening it narrowly just as Damon reached the landing. A leather satchel was slung over one shoulder and although there was no trace of the douchebag, he was still a little standoffish, a little wary.

Bonnie wasn’t sure what to say to start the healing, especially since the sight of him stirred up the tiniest bit of rage again. Wordlessly, she locked and bolted the door and went back to bed. Damon followed, just as silent. He moved agilely though the dark bedroom, dropping the bag on a chair and stripping out of his clothes. When he slid under the covers behind her, he didn’t hesitate to assume his favorite sleeping position. Thigh wedged between hers, palm pressed to the space between her navel and her vajayjay. And to make sure there was no misunderstanding of their situation, he slid fingers into the waistband of her panties and pressed them possessively against her skin.

Territorial ass monkey.

“I’m sorry.” He whispered, rubbing his mouth back and forth over her exposed nape before punctuating the apology with a kiss.

Bonnie shivered and sighed resignedly because _Lord Jesus_.

“Maybe we should stick to easier conversations.” She conceded reluctantly. “Like, ‘what do you want for dinner’ or ‘where do you want my fingers?’”

His hand inched lower as he rubbed himself against her ass. “Where _do_ you want my fingers?”

Bonnie rolled over and showed him. And the only thing they argued about was spork versus cowgirl.

See? So much easier.

 

* * *

 

Rudy Hopkins had soul destroying eyes. Large, dark-rimmed and intense, every so often they would land on Damon like feral crows on a rotting carcass. Bonnie’s father was a physically impressive specimen, tall and bald with a deep, commanding voice. A lesser dude would be petrified, but Damon had experience dealing with intimidating fathers so he met every one of Rudy’s menacing stares with a blasé one of his own. Besides, he couldn’t be pressed about such a lightweight. Not with Great Aunt Pauline testing his resolve.

“You sure are good-looking.” The ninety year old told him from her perch at the kitchen island. She didn’t look a day over sixty with that radiant skin and hazel irises so like Bonnie’s. Matching those lively eyes was an even livelier personality. Damon could’ve sworn when he’d helped her up on the bar stool that she’d tweaked his bum. Sheila had tasked them both with chopping onions and had probably tasked Aunt Pauline with pushing his buttons.

“If I was forty years younger.” Aunt Pauline batted perfectly adhered lashes at him.

“Don’t let that stop you.” Damon’s voice was smooth and he gave her extra smolder because he wasn’t about to ruin the limited amount of time she had on this earth. The flirting had her tinkling like a teenage girl.

“Aunt Pauline, stop pushing up on my man!”

Carrying a dish hot from the oven, Bonnie was weaving her way through the crowd of people who’d congregated in the kitchen to finish preparing the Thanksgiving meal. That “my man” had Damon feeling a little better about their shaky reconciliation. As laughter echoed around them, Lucy’s linebacker sized boyfriend eased next to Damon with a warning.

“Watch your ass.” David whispered as he sent Pauline a wary sidelong glance. “She handsy.”

“You belong to that tall one doncha, baby?” Aunt Pauline reached around Damon, grabbed a handful of polyester cotton blend and hauled muscle dude towards her. “You’re really wearing this shirt.”

“Stop pushing up on my man, Aunt Pauline!” Lucy’s voice came from somewhere behind them and the room busted up again.

The only one not enjoying themselves was Bonnie’s mother. Oh she was putting on a good front, but whenever her gaze fell on Damon, all pretense of civility fled. He went out of his way to smile at every sneer because he wasn’t about to engage in battle with either of Bonnie’s parents when he still had a toe in the doghouse. They’d patched things up as best they could, but he could tell Bonnie wasn’t satisfied with the situation and neither was he. A pall had settled over them and Damon was clueless on how to fix it.

Despite the friction between him and Bonnie, Damon was enjoying himself. The Bennetts were an intriguing family of mostly fierce women and devoted men and they had the small brownstone bursting at the seams. He gleaned from snippets of conversation that their roots ran deep in Virginia and the bulk of the family still resided in various parts of that state. Naturally, they were curious about him and he could detect a little wariness in several, but he was welcomed into the fold for the most part. Because Bonnie’s attention was always demanded elsewhere, Jamie and David were the ones to introduce Damon to family members and keep him company. And when they were finally all sitting around two large tables for dinner, he found himself seated between Sheila and Caroline’s mother.

“So.” Sheila started innocently, attention focused on her plate as she scooped food onto a fork. “You change oil for a living.”

Damon’s lips pressed together, but he couldn’t stop the grin. He glanced across the table at Bonnie and shook his head at the terrified question in her eyes. Sheila had been picking at him since they’d arrived and he was determined to pass whatever psychological test she was throwing at him.

“Actually, I restore vintage cars for a living.”

“You make any money doing that?”

“Sheila.” Liz Forbes admonished, but she was enjoying this dress down, evidenced by the poor attempt to mask her laughter.

“I’m just trying to make sure the boy can take care of my grandbabies.”

Damon used the act of refilling her wineglass to lean close, his gaze challenging hers as he whispered, “I stopped being a boy twenty years ago.”

Sheila looked him up and down, grinned and tipped her wineglass towards him in approval. “Touché, baby. Touché.”

Maybe it was because she was in law enforcement, but Liz asked him a hell of a lot of leading questions. She was very no nonsense, the pragmatic kind of person who judged harshly and took her responsibilities seriously. Apparently Bonnie was one of her responsibilities, but by the time dinner was over, Damon felt as if any preconceived opinions of him, most likely supplied by Abby, had been squashed. He wagered she’d be running his name through a police database, though, if she hadn’t already.

The family split into several factions. Most were watching football, some had migrated to the kitchen to chinwag over numerous desserts and a few had cleared the dining table to play cards. Damon wanted in on that action, but Myles had other plans for him.

“Come talk to me for a minute.” He drew Damon aside as he was about to sit next to Bonnie. She barely paid him any notice as she and Rudy began trash talking their opponents. Obviously she wasn’t going to save him, so Damon had no choice but to follow the old man up the stairs to the third floor and into the past.

Retro leather sofas, rich wood paneling, a large mahogany bar. Framed posters of Hendrix, Scott-Heron, Malcolm X and Ali. An honest-to-God console with a record player and albums stacked neatly on the shelves below. Uncle Angelo would feel right at home here. Myles shut the door behind them, effectively muting the revelry downstairs.

On a side table stood dozens of family photos and Damon zoned in on a couple. One of toddler Bonnie with cute afro puffs conjured a wistful thought of a little Bonnie 2.0. And Sheila had apparently been a babe, evidenced by an old snap of her in flared jeans and a midriff baring T-shirt.

“Have a seat, young man.” Myles ambled towards the antique stereo. As if it were some precious ancient document, he carefully selected an album, removed a gleaming black 12-inch and centered it reverently on the turntable. After positioning the needle, music filled the room and then he was at the bar pouring them each two fingers and fervently crooning in a surprising falsetto.

 _I met a little girl, sure was fine._  
_Pretty little thing just about blew my mind._  
_She took me home and made love to me._  
_I knew right then and there, this is where I wanted to be._

"The first time I heard this song…” Myles handed Damon a drink before easing down onto the sofa across from him. “…I was in this hole-in-the-wall night club. One way in, one way out.” He paused dramatically to convey the severity of that situation. “I’m at the bar peacocking with my boys and in walks this _fine_ _ass woman_.” He melted against the sofa and closed his eyes in ecstasy as he relived the memory. “She was wearing blue satin jeans and this itty bitty tube top. And I was in love, you get me? But my heart was a little conflicted because at the time, my goal in life was to marry Pam Grier.”

Damon chuckled into his bourbon.

“But she was _so_ sweet. Next thing I know, I’m at the altar pledging to love, honor and cherish. She’s still fire after all these years.” Myles said proudly. “All the Bennett women are fire. And can live just as good without you as they can with you. The fuck-up-and-see-what-happens type. A lot of men have trouble handling that.”

“I’ve always preferred a little audaciousness in a woman.”

“Heh. My granddaughter is something else, huh?”

“I was talking about Aunt Pauline.”

Myles threw back his head and laughed as he pounded a fist on his knee. “Auntie is kind of touchy-feely. She’s buried three husbands, I don’t think she’s looking for a fourth. Woman just enjoys life, so here’s to her.”

Damon raised his glass to Aunt Pauline and savored the flavor of smooth spice on his tongue. The man definitely knew his way around top shelf.

“I see you and my granddaughter are still battling.”

The good mood went out the window. Damon liked Myles, but there was only so much fuckery he was willing to put up with. This was the man’s house though, so he made sure his tone was firm but respectful. “No offense, sir, but what goes on between me and Bonnie is private.”

Myles wasn’t put out, actually nodded in agreement. “You’re right. Normally I don’t get involved in my family’s personal business, because I sure as hell don’t want any of them getting involved in what goes down between me and my wife. But baby girl was feeling some kind of way and in her condition, I don’t want her feeling some kind of way, you get me?”

“I wouldn’t do anything to hurt her or my kid.” Damon stated heatedly. During the fight with Bonnie, he’d gotten the feeling that she was concerned about that too, so now he was feeling extra touchy.

“Calm down, son. I trust you with my grandbabies. I’m actually rooting for you and baby girl. Just be easy with her when she starts testing you, okay? She’s sensitive about your issues because of hers.” Myles leaned forward, expression full of concern. “Sometimes I think she’s still mad at her mama for leaving her. I mean she says she’s not, but…well. Sometimes I think she resents Jamie too, you know?”

He was pissed that Bonnie had apparently spilled the sordid details of their argument, but Damon put that aside to zoom in on that other thing.

“Abby abandoned Bonnie?”

Myles groaned. “I just stepped in a big ass pile, didn’t I?”

“It’s cool.” Damon assured the older man as he turned the revelation over in his head. “I won’t let on that I know.”

“Well how come you don’t know? What do you two do besides make babies? Do you not talk at all?”

“We talk.” Damon got up and helped himself to another shot of bourbon. “Just not about that kind of stuff. There some rule that says we have to?”

Myles held up a hand and then held out his glass for a top off. “I feel you. In my opinion, talking about bad stuff just confirms it, didn’t make it better. For _me_. Other folks need that kind of release though.”

“I’m not one of those folks.” Damon asserted, his need to move away from talk of demons warring with his need to know about Bonnie’s history with her mother. He wandered back to the display of pictures and picked up one of Bonnie at four, maybe five, rocking that adorable widow’s peak and a purple flower dress. Damon wondered how any mother could have left this child. How you could inflict that kind of suffering on your own flesh and blood? Abby, with all her sanctimony and judgyness, had abandoned Bonnie, made her feel unloved and unwanted no doubt.

And just like that, Damon was furious. And just like that, he realized why Bonnie had been so antsy for answers about…

_Shit._

“Have you thought of any names yet?”

Damon gave his guilt the mental shake off as he turned to face Myles. “We’re not there yet.”

“Myles would be a nice middle name.”

The Bennett women weren’t the only ones with fire, though Myles was more subtle at asserting his will. Damon sprawled in corner of the same sofa, forcing a smile. “I’ll run it by Bonnie.”

“And when it’s time to have that talk with him, just give me a call and I’ll be there to help you.”

“I think I can handle the birds and bees.”

“No, the _other_ talk.” At the younger man’s furrowed brows, he said carefully, “About the police?”

There was a sharp surge of fear because…that was really a thing? A real conversation he had to have with his son?

“I mean, he might be as pale as you or Sheila, he could be as dark as me or Rudy. He could be somewhere in between. Either way, he’s still going to be a black boy with a target on his back. You could be standing right next to him and your white privilege won’t save him from a police officer who thinks he’s less than human.”

Flashes of horrific scenarios sprang unbidden into Damon’s imagination. His boy, bloody and spread eagle in the street or slumped over in a driver’s seat or…

 _Baby names, baby names. Focus on the happy_.

“Hey _hey_. Don’t worry.” Rudy scooted closer and gave Damon’s shoulder a reassuring thump. “Like I said, I’ll be there to make sure he knows what to do and what not to do. So will Rudy, David, Jamie.”

“Marcel.” Damon murmured absently, gripping his glass tightly.

“Who?”

“A good friend of mine.”

“See? We all got you. And who knows, maybe this world will have changed for the better by then and that talk won’t be necessary.”

Damon tried to embrace Myles’ hopefulness, but he could just feel the gray hairs and worry lines forming. What had made him think this fatherhood gig would be easy?

The door edged open and David stuck his head inside. Dude looked about as spooked as Damon felt.

“Now what do you want?” Myles’ tone was full of irritation, but his eyes danced with humor.

“Man, _Aunt Pauline_.” David whined.

Myles doubled over with laughter as he gestured the other man inside. “You can hide in here.”

Later they were joined by Rudy and Jamie and between listening to family stories and imbibing prime liquor, Damon covertly observed the interaction between the two men and wondered why Bonnie would resent her brother. He was beginning to wonder about a lot of things. And when he and Bonnie we’re in the Vanquish and headed back to her place, it took supreme effort to keep from grilling her about what he’d learned and what he wanted to learn. But the silence was already awkward enough and he’d be a special kind of dick to ask her about such a sensitive issue when he wasn’t willing to talk about his own.

“You like my grandfather.”

Damon glanced briefly at her, but Bonnie was staring out the window.

“I do like your grandfather. He has excellent taste in liquor and naked pictures of Pam Grier.”

“Wow.” Bonnie’s laugh was soft and indulgent. “I can’t believe he showed you his prized naked pictures of the woman who was _almost_ my grandma.”

The ice was broken, the tension now just the good old fashioned kind. He’d probably get better results if he posed his questions after sex. But she was giving off that weary vibe that meant she was going to pass out as soon as her head hit the pillow. And curiosity was winning out over keeping the peace.

“Your dad and Jamie don’t look much like each other.” He commented as casually as possible.

He could feel her gaze swing his way and he imagined it was nothing pretty. Plus there was hardness in her voice when she finally answered. “That’s because my dad isn’t Jamie’s real father.”

He ruminated on that for a moment. Was Jamie the product of an affair? Was that why Bonnie sometimes resented he and her mother? He couldn’t really ask because of the whole no talking about Giuseppe thing.

“We’re supposed to stick to easy stuff, remember?”

“I remember. Sorry.”

He wasn’t getting off with that hasty apology. Bonnie shifted towards him and when Damon glanced over at her again, the glow from the dashboard was highlighting her narrowed eyes.

“You spent a lot of time with Pops tonight.”

“Excellent liquor…naked Pam.”

“What did you talk about?”

“Just…random shit.”

“Just random shit?”

“Mmmhmm.”

She stared at him so long that he nearly broke, but eventually she backed off. Then totally surprised him by scooting as close as the console would allow so she could loop her arm through his and lay her head against his shoulder.

“You know, whenever you want to tell me about your _random shit_ , I’m willing to tell you about mine. And if you don’t want to tell me, that’s cool too.”

He didn’t know how to respond to that other than to dip his chin against the top of her head in a silent gesture of appreciation.

They were nearing the turnoff to her apartment and he felt confident enough to ask, “Your place or mine?”

“Mine. I don’t have a change of panties at your place.”

“Why would you need panties?”

He could feel her shaking against his shoulder.

“Okay, your place.”

Damon accelerated past her street before she could change her mind. He felt like they had reached some sort of peace in regards to the deep personal shit. But he was probably going to fuck that up now that he’d decided to stop avoiding Abby and finally have that talk with her.

 

* * *

**NOTES:**

Forgive me for taking so long to update, I've had so many amazing real life distractions occupying my time.

I hope you were able to follow that. Bonnie and Damon had an argument off…can’t say off camera. Off page? Off fic? Anyway, the crux of the argument will be revealed in more dramatic fashion later. Next chapter, actually. Drama at the gala, drama with some exes.

Borrowed Marvin Gaye's "Since I Had You" and "I Met A Little Girl".

Thank you for all the kudos and reviews and especially your patience.


	8. Scars

The baby’s first kick happened during some very intense lovemaking. There were times when Bonnie liked it hard and fast and Damon was trying his best to please her without dying a sweet death.  And then in the midst of all that rough, noisy, juicy fucking, Bonnie trapped Damon’s hips with her thighs and ordered him to be still.  It took a couple seconds for him to realize that wondrous expression on her face had nothing to do with his prowess and then he was excitedly sliding fingers next to hers and pressing low against her belly. 

“There he goes again.” Bonnie was ecstatic and near breathless, brow and breasts glistening with sweat.  “That one had a little more oomph.” 

“I don’t…feel anything.” Damon’s voice was strained as he struggled to keep his cock in check.  The changes in her body made Bonnie extra tight, extra hot, extra wet and being buried in a snatch that wicked was wreaking havoc on his staying power. 

“Maybe it’s too soon for anyone else to feel.” 

“Probably. Kid’s got lousy timing, though.” 

She snickered softly. “Wait until he gets here.  It’ll be five minute sessions and very little sleep.” 

And to remind him that they should take advantage of the time they had now, Bonnie curled her legs around his back and urged him to continue, hands enthusiastically squeezing his ass. Carefully balancing himself above her, Damon rolled his hips into her, slow at first and then faster as she set the rhythm.  Just like that, the intensity returned full force.  His girl might be pint-sized, but she was a boss in the sack. He especially liked the way her itty bitty self would wrestle him into a desired position.  Only a couple months together and she already knew where to bite and lick, what to touch and tweak.  How to make him feel powerless one moment and like a king the next.  Damon was caught up in the magic of Bonnie Bennett. 

She’d grown more beautiful as her pregnancy progressed too. It may seem cliché to think so, but Damon had facts to back up his bias.   The increased hormones gave her soft skin added glow, made her eyes radiant and her dark hair thicker and more lustrous.  Her tits were amazing too, plump and firm with enlarged and extra sensitive nipples.  And they loved it spicy, but Damon was keeping her in the missionary for as long as possible because he adored watching her come apart. 

When she did so this time, her body surged upward against his as ‘Damon’ and ‘shit’ got stuck on repeat.   There was a faint ringing in his ears as he let go too.  And when the last ripple faded and she was floating back down to the bed again, Bonnie could only manage to pry open one eye as she watched Damon place a reverent kiss between her breasts.  Her mouth was slack, arms flung listlessly above her head, hair all over the place.  Just a tiny ball of sexually wrecked woman and Damon couldn’t help but laugh at the amusingly erotic picture she made. 

“S ’not funny.” 

The swipe at his butt was listless and pathetic. So was the kick to his shin. Damon laughed harder.  

“I hate you.” Bonnie hissed and closed her eye to all that annoying smugness.  “Next time I’ll just get mine and pass out.” 

“Go ahead, babe. I like it when you fall asleep on me.  Lying there with your mouth hanging open while I’m banging away.”  He sucked a nipple into his mouth, then released it with a wet pop and an evil grin.  “So sexy.” 

She pushed his face away with an exhausted laugh. “I can’t with you.” 

Damon remained between her thighs, propping himself up on an elbow so as not to squish the baby. He brushed his mouth against her abdomen, her breasts, her cheek and finally her lips before leaning back, enamored and impressed.  “You got skills, woman.”  

“That’s what they tell me.” She responded with faux vanity and guided his hand to her middle.  “He’s moving again.” 

He still couldn’t feel anything, but Damon kept his palm against to the spot. “I think he wants us to cut it out.” 

“I think so too. We should probably give him a name since he’s making himself known.  I was thinking about Adan, no ‘i’.” 

Damon tried it out in his head. “Doesn’t really flow with Myles.” 

Bonnie sighed. “Or Vincent, my dad’s favorite uncle.  Is it wrong for me to want our baby to have his own identity?” 

“At least you don’t have to worry about me wanting to name him after my old man.” 

He hadn’t meant to reintroduce that sore subject, but it was out there now. Bonnie hadn’t attempted to bring it up again, but the inadvertent reminder had her fingers gliding up his forearm to stroke that flat little cylinder of hardened flesh.  And the one just below his nape.  The one on his shoulder too.  He was surprised she hadn’t discovered them before, but they’d been sexing under the fluorescent lights of his kitchen and she’d been licking him from ass cheek to neck when she’d discovered the old burn marks that were only a shade lighter than his natural coloring. 

In hindsight, he should’ve been more open to answering her questions. Or at least more gracious about _not_ answering them.  Because that argument had been really ugly and he never wanted them to be in that miserable place again. 

As her fingers caressed the old wounds, her questioning eyes held his wary ones. She was feeling for more than just scars, she was feeling him out too.  Seeing if he would open up, but Damon was not now and probably would never be ready.  It was something he wanted to leave in the past and never give life to again. 

“Don’t, babe.” 

His warning was gently delivered this time and Bonnie physically relented by moving her hands away from the scars to rest on his chest. 

But her anger had resurfaced again. More subdued, yet still there and her voice was soft and heated when she said, “I wish I could fight him.”  

Damon sighed, rolling to her side and pulling her with him. “No you don’t.  He was a nasty piece of work.” 

“I could take him.” She insisted, curving an arm almost protectively across his chest.  “I’d be extra motivated.” 

She would. That was just how Bonnie Bennett rolled.  And it kind of made his heart quicken knowing she wanted to slay his demons.  He felt the same way about hers.  But the last thing he wanted was to imagine her going to battle with the evil shit stain that was his father. They had happier more important things to discuss anyway.  Like baby names. 

 “Jagger.  Jagger Daltrey.  Or Ozzy.” 

He wasn’t serious of course, but the mood desperately needed to be lightened. Damon had gotten a real taste of bliss and he wasn’t willing to give it up to wallow in the past. 

Thankfully, Bonnie followed his lead. She was laughing again when she replied, “We’ll add them to the list.”

 

* * *

 

On a snowy Wednesday afternoon, the Salvatore brothers met at a diner located midway between the auto shop and Salvatore Holdings. Damon had been so wrapped up in Bonnie and the baby that he’d forgotten Stefan was going through some serious personal drama.  Only the breakup with Elena had apparently taken a backseat to a more interesting development. 

“You and Caroline?” Had Damon heard that right?  His straight laced brother had moved in on someone else’s woman?  “You’re messing with me.” 

“Definitely not messing with you.” Stefan’s smile was the first flush of like kind, but he added a sobering caveat.  “And I said we’ve been hanging out. _Just_ hanging out.” 

“Hard to ‘just hang out’ with a woman that hot.” 

Stefan countered with a mention of one of his best friends. “I kick it with Lexie all the time.” 

“Caroline’s a Porsche coupe, Lexie’s a Beetle.” Damon observed dryly.  “Which would you rather drive?” 

Exasperated, Stefan threw some Jacksons at the check on the table. “I have to get back to work.” 

Little brother was holding back and that had Damon more concerned than he wanted to be. When they were bundled up and trudging up 53rd, he fished for more details.  “Bonnie didn’t mention Barbie dumping the fiancé.” 

Stefan trudged faster. “She…hasn’t…actually.” 

Damon grabbed a fistful of wool overcoat and hauled Stefan away from the thick crowd of pedestrians. He didn’t usually stick his nose in other people’s affairs, but if things went ass up, he and Bonnie could get dragged in the middle of that shit. 

“You’re a big boy, Stefan, but _reminder_.  Caroline is Bonnie’s best friend and if you fuck over her--” 

“We’re just…hanging…out.” Stefan insisted as he shook off Damon’s grasp, but his next words were conspiratorial and hopeful. “Now if she dumps Klaus because he’s a neglectful dick…” 

And suddenly gamesmanship superseded everything else. 

“Have you learned nothing from me? If you’re really into her, just steal her away from Neglectful Dick.” 

“I’m trying to be sensitive to her situation.” 

Damon pished that nonsense and was about to give his brother a lesson in macking when he noticed the baby gear screaming at him from the display window of the store they’d been standing in front of. Tiny beanies and Timberlands and jerseys. 

“They make leather jackets that small?” Stefan was awestruck.  Actually beat Damon inside the store and went straight for the black bicycle style number.  “This is fucking _adorable_.” 

Damon’s brow hiked. “Did you just squeal?” 

Stefan answered with another squeal because he’d spotted sweaters. His enthusiasm drew an eager saleswoman to his side and Damon hung back to check out the Converse booties.  He picked up a pair of black and white ones, marveling at how wee they were in his palm.  The mini Timberlands were pretty sick too. 

Reluctantly, Damon replaced them because he really shouldn’t be buying anything without Bonnie. _But what could one pair hurt_ , he reasoned as he picked up the booties again and fingered the soft fabric. 

“Damon!” 

Across the store, and to the amusement of the other patrons, Stefan was next level excited as he held up teeny pajamas with ‘FUTURE GEAR HEAD’ emblazoned across the front. 

And PJs. What could PJs hurt?

 

* * *

 

Hands on hips, Bonnie’s gaze flickered from the haul of baby clothes spread out on her bed to Damon’s not-even-sorry mug. “You and Stefan went a little overboard, don’t you think?” 

“I know I should’ve waited to buy things with you, but --” 

“I don’t care about that…it’s too much!” 

“Come on, Bon Bon.” Damon showed her a tiny sweater with elbow patches and a matching newsboy.  “Is this not the cutest shit?  Our kid’s gonna smoke all those other loser babies.” 

“Where’s he going to wear all this stuff?” 

“I don’t know. Play dates?  The park?  The GQ Baby Player’s Ball?  Babe, listen.”  Damon hooked a teeny plaid flannel shirt over her belly.  “The salesclerk made sure we got clothes that would fit him next fall.” 

“It’s _too_ much.” 

“It’s _not_ too much.” 

“There’s a hundred onesies here.” 

“You exaggerate, there’s only twenty-three.” 

“Oh _only_ twenty-three.” 

“Uncle Stefan couldn’t make up his mind.” 

“Uh huh. Two leather jackets and five pairs of jeans?” 

“It’s gonna be really cold next year.” 

“Booties, pajamas, jerseys, and _these._ ”  Bonnie picked up a pair of baby sized Timberlands and tried to affect a disapproving frown.  It lost the battle to an indulgent and awestruck smile.  “These are _so_ sweet.” 

Damon held a denim jacket next to the Timberlands and grinned proudly. “Little Hendrix Plant Salvatore is gonna be the coolest baby _ever_.” 

“Uh…not with that name he isn’t.”

 

* * *

 

Bonnie turned this way and that, eyeing herself critically in the full length mirror attached to her closet door. “And you’re sure this doesn’t make me look fat?” 

Perched yoga-style on the bed, Caroline rolled her eyes. “Would I lie to you about your fashion choices?” 

“Yeah, forgot who I was talking to.” Bonnie said wryly, smoothing the soft fabric over her hips.  The Grecian style halter gown was an amazing shade of green with an intricate gold embellished collar.  The gathered silk crepe draped her petite body and her baby bump to perfection.  Not to be vain, but she was going to echo Caroline’s earlier assessment.  “You’re right, I’m gorgeous.” 

“You’re going to slay, girlfriend. Wait until Damon’s ex gets a load of you and that belly.  I need a detailed description of bitch’s face, okay?” 

“I love that you’re so trifling.” 

“And my nephew is going to slay too.” Caroline held up a teensy black onesie with “Intake” etched on the front and “Exhaust” on the tush area.  “This is _too_ adorable.  That baby’s gonna be a gearhead for sure if Daddy has anything to say about it.” 

“Did you check out the leather jacket?” Bonnie purposely baited, focusing on Caroline’s face so she wouldn’t miss one telltale twitch. 

"Oh…my…God…this is so cool!” 

“Isn’t it? Stefan bought it.” 

“Really? That was…sweet.  Don’t you…think he’s…sweet?” 

Mmmhmm. Thirst was written all over girlfriend’s face. 

“Yeah, Stefan’s a sweet guy.” 

Bonnie said nothing further on the subject as Caroline helped unzip her. She let her friend continue to gush over the baby clothes as she carefully tucked the gown into a garment bag and hung it away in the closet.  Once she was drowning in a pair of comfy sweats and they were curled up on the sofa with cups of hot tea, Bonnie finally went there. 

“What’re you doing, Care?” 

She played dumb of course. 

“Damon says you and Stefan have been hanging out.” 

“Am I not allowed to have a friend?” Caroline asked defensively. 

“Not when he wants to bruise the beef curtains.” 

“Do… _what_?” 

“Girl, I don’t know…that was some shit Damon said.” Bonnie waved her hand.  Her guy had a way with words.  “I don’t get it.  Is Klaus not giving you enough attention?  Is he screwing around?” 

“Okay, Bonnie, _chill_.  Klaus is not fucking around and Stefan is just a _friend_ I like hanging out with.” 

With an exaggerated dubious expression, Bonnie sipped her tea. 

“It’s true.” Caroline insisted, lightly smacking Bonnie’s leg.  “I’m in love with Klaus and we’re going to get married once we reset the wedding date.  But I like Stefan. _Like_. He’s laid back and so old school, you know?  He opens doors for me, pulls out my chair, asks my permission before he does anything.  And he’s really easy to talk to.” 

Feathers a little ruffled, Bonnie regarded her best friend with concern. “You have a problem you need to talk about?  I’m your girl, you can talk to me.” 

“Not trying to be a bitch, but Damon’s been taking up all your time and you were going through that horrible morning sickness and stressing about school and … _oh_.  Do they know at school?” 

“Yeah, I’ve stopped trying to hide it. I got tired of wearing baggy clothes.” 

“Are you catching any heat?” 

“It’s not like there’s some sort of morality clause in my contract. It’s the twenty-first century.  My students know better than to ask personal questions.”  That vague notion of a career change inserted itself into her thoughts again.  “But I get looks from some of the older teachers so…its whatever.  But back to _you_.”

“I’m good, Bon.  Stefan and I are becoming friends. _Just_ friends.  Stop looking for drama.” 

“I just don’t want me and Damon to get dragged into your shit if drama is indeed created. We’re already treading water with his daddy issues.” 

“Hey, do you want me to ask Stefan about that?” 

“If Damon was being abused, don’t you think Stefan was too?” 

Caroline recoiled at that, her whole aura suffused with sudden anger. “I guess we’re both going to be digging that fucker up and kicking his ass.” 

“And you two are just friends.” Bonnie commented wryly. 

“Shut up, Bonnie. Stefan and I are platonically getting to know one another and planning you guys’ baby shower.” 

“Okay, girl.” 

“Can we talk about something more interesting? Like Damon’s ex.  This is the one who’s baby turned out not to be his, right?” 

“I don’t know really.” Bonnie rubbed her temple because dealing with Damon’s shit was starting to wear on her.  “That’s another topic he shies away from.  He just warned me that an ex-girlfriend would be at his mom’s thing because her husband is a board member at his family’s company and _specifically_ warned me not to let her pull me into her mind games.” 

“Um, did you ask him if she and not-the-baby-mama are one and the same?” 

“After that fight we had? I make it a point not to ask him about sensitive stuff.  But I get these little clues here and there and I try to piece the puzzle together myself.” 

“He is fucking ridiculous.” 

Bonnie wanted to defend Damon, but she didn’t want to come off as that type of girlfriend. Or…whatever she was.  Talking about all this did bring her thoughts back to something that had been bothering her though. 

“So, you’ve met their mom.” 

“Yeah, don’t remind me.” 

“I’m reminding you because I’m trying to work something out here. She’s comes across all protective.” 

“Like a mama hen on steroids.” 

“ _Right_?  So how does a woman that fierce allow her child to be abused?  Where _was_ she when Damon’s father was burning him with cigarettes and doing God knows what else to him?” 

Caroline contemplated that for a moment, beautifully groomed brows furrowing and then she gave Bonnie a meaningful look. “Maybe you should be asking her that question.”

 

* * *

 

He probably should’ve called first. 

“Damon, this is Aaron.” Bonnie breezily introduced the poor man’s Idris Elba rising from the chair, hand extended.  “Aaron…Damon.” 

He thought he’d outgrown that possessive jealous thing after he and Katherine had broken up, but as Damon shook hands with Arnold he could feel that old rage clogging his throat. When he’d told her he was having a late meeting with a potential client, Bonnie had told him she’d be having dinner with a friend.  Damon hadn’t considered the friend might be a guy.  Or an ex-boyfriend, if Archie's body language was any indication.  He wasn’t imagining the territorial look that crossed the other man’s features either. 

Was he? 

“Congratulations on the baby.” Arthur offered, flashing a smile at Bonnie. 

Dude sounded sincere, but the demons said otherwise. And he was staring at Bonnie a little too long. 

“Yeah.” Damon was staring at Bonnie too.  Staring hard, as if that would scare a confession out of her.  “Thanks.” 

Edgy silence ensued. And then Damon shook off his jacket, tossed it at its regular spot on the sofa and walked straight into the bedroom.  Without a word.  He’d catch hell for that later. 

He hit the light switch and the first place his eyes went to was the bed. It hadn’t been made, which was nothing out of the ordinary.  Bonnie rarely made her bed.  But the demons were fucking with him so he had to check.  Heart thumping wildly, Damon dragged back the sheets.  He sighed with relief because there was no wet spot.  Angrily flung the covers back in place because he was pathetic. 

The demons were laughing at him now. 

He sat down on the bed and waited, head bowed over clasped hands. There was a distant sound of the front door closing and then Bonnie was in the doorway, serene countenance belying how she really felt.  She folded her arms over her burgeoning middle, leaning against the door to observe him for a long stretch.  Damon could feel his whole being shrinking under the weight of those beautiful, disapproving eyes. 

“That was rude.” 

The demons wanted him to go off, but he forced himself to meet her gaze and apologize. “Sorry.”  And then because he couldn’t resist being a dick.  “Arlo seems nice.” 

“Are you five?” You could melt diamonds with that glare.  “I thought you were meeting a client.” 

What she really meant was she thought he’d be out of the way for a while. 

“I met him…we finished our business early.” _Don’t start any shit, Damon._ “So Aaron is a…?” 

“Friend. And someone I used to date.” 

 _Start shit, Damon_. 

“Used to _fuck_?” 

“What do you think? Did you fuck the women you dated?” 

He was his own worst enemy. 

He was right to be suspicious. 

He was stupid for being suspicious. 

He was justified. 

He was… 

He was a head case. 

“I’m sorry.” 

“I am _not_ her.” 

Damon sighed and thanked God she wasn’t. “I know.” 

Now she couldn’t even look at him, had to shift her eyes away for a moment as she called on that incredible patience of hers. “Are you spending the night?” 

It was an out-of-the-blue question that threw him for a loop. “You’re not putting me out?” 

And now she was insulted. “I’m in a grownup relationship.  What about you?” 

“Babe.” The space where she’d been standing was suddenly empty.  Damon craned his head towards the hallway and yelled after her.  “I’m _sorry_.” 

Jesus, he was a sack of emo shit. 

Agonizing seconds passed before Bonnie reappeared in the doorway and that face meant business. Myles’ voice echoed in his head. 

 _“All the Bennett women are fire…the fuck-up-and-see-what-happens type_. _”_

"You need a drink?” 

It was sad that she even had to offer. Having a shot of something was tempting, but Damon really didn’t need to exacerbate his assery with alcohol. 

“I’m just gonna take a shower and crash.” 

“Cool. I’ve got papers to grade.”  And she was gone again. 

All that progress they’d made after the argument just pissed away. Damon bemoaned the return of his old insecure self while he showered and later on after he’d crawled into Bonnie’s bed.  He was still awake long after she finally joined him, easily drifting off while nuzzling against his back.  Forgiving in actions instead of words. 

He needed to fix this shit. He needed to fix him.

 

* * *

 

On Saturday, Damon coaxed Bonnie into some slow and thorough early morning loving. It was a calculated effort designed to erase the lingering tension between them but he wasn’t sure if worked because she fell asleep again soon after.  A little space would probably help the situation too, so he went to the shop and spent the day prepping a new project and getting the fully restored Mercedes ready for a fresh paint job. 

Bonnie did call to check on him and ask what time he was picking her up for his mother’s charity event. Even teased him about his gearhead devotion, which was at least assurance that things were back to normal.  When Damon arrived at her apartment later that evening, tuxed out and far more confident about their relationship, Bonnie was a whirling dervish of half-naked, partially made up female. 

“Gimme twenty minutes.” She requested distractedly, adjusting boobs inside a flesh-colored strapless bra as she raced to the bathroom. 

Damon trailed after her and closed the toilet lid to sit down and watch her finish her makeup. Her hair was done up in intricate braids at the crown with the rest flowing around her slim shoulders in soft natural coils.  He tugged on a springy lock, wrapping it around his index finger as he drooled over the stunning little bubble butt on display thanks to a teensy thong.  As soon as he palmed the left cheek, she slapped his hand away. 

“You got laid this morning.” She reminded him, deftly applying eyeshadow.  “We’re going to be late as it is.” 

“I’m always fashionably late…at least an hour. Lily is usually into her third drink and her fourth boy toy by then, which means less time spent nagging me.” 

Bonnie paused to look at him, perplexed and curious. Damon nixed whatever question she was about to ask by cupping her belly and gently shaking. 

“Has he moved today?” 

Those narrowed eyes said she was onto his game, but she let him slide, turning back to the mirror to continue primping. “Earlier today…over here.”  She moved his hand to the other side. 

“Wake up, little dude.” His fingers tapped lightly.  The cell sitting on the toilet’s tank went off and Damon glanced at it, then up at Bonnie.  “Mama’s calling.” 

The response was succinct and uninterested. So she was clashing with Abby again.  Damon wondered if he was the cause of this latest disagreement or if it were something else altogether.  And even though he was probably setting himself up for interrogation, he had questions about Bonnie’s upbringing that needed answering. 

“How old is Abby?” He asked casually, running a thumb over her navel. 

“Forty-six.” 

“So she was pretty young when she had you.” 

Bonnie remained silent and Damon glanced up at her. She was coating her lips with a glossy nude color, features completely devoid of any emotion.  Just when he figured he wasn’t going to get anything out of her, she finally responded in a flat, matter-of-fact tone. 

“Both my parents were young, in their sophomore year of college. Dad asked Mom to marry him, she said no.  He stayed in college and she came home to have me.”  She dropped the lip gloss with a thunk and began taming the wisps along her hairline with finger and comb.  “Then when I was about three, she got bored and left me with my grandparents while she went to find herself.  She’d come home for visits, but the older I got, the more infrequent the visits were.  I think the longest she was away was two, maybe three years.” 

She stepped back and inspected the results of her efforts before finally turning to face him. Her eyes were enhanced with deep green and smoky kohl, which made those jade irises even more alluring.   And this devastatingly put together version of Bonnie reminded Damon a lot of the siren he’d met in a dance club on a sultry July evening. 

“So she shows up the day before my thirteenth birthday with Jamie.” She continued, reaching out to straighten Damon’s tie.  “Her boyfriend, his father, had dumped them both.  She moved heaven and earth to gain full custody and adopt him and _my_ father, wanting to get into her good graces because he was still in love with her, decided he was going to be Jamie’s dad too.  Suddenly that little bratty muthafucker was horning in on my visitation weekends.” 

And this explained Abby’s guilty smothering. Bonnie and Jamie on the other hand… 

“You and your brother seem to get along in spite of everything.” 

“It took a while for me to accept him, but he’s my brother and I love him.” 

“Why --” 

“I’m done sharing. Unless you want to reciprocate?” 

Nope. Damon was done with the past.  Sure as hell wasn’t about to revisit all that pain and risk breaking down in front of Bonnie.  No more wins for Giuseppe.

No. More. 

“Didn’t think so.” Bonnie said when he remained silent.  Her disappointment was on full display as she turned back to the small vanity.  She applied a sinful fragrance on her wrists, her neck, between her boobs and, Heaven help him, between her thighs.  Then she snatched up her phone and she and her glorious ass spun around and left the bathroom.  “I need you to zip me up.” 

Damon hastened to follow. As soon as he zipped her into the exquisite emerald gown, he desperately wanted to zip her out of it.  Because her swollen middle made it difficult for her to bend over, he helped her sit on the bed so he could slip a pair of chic stilettos onto her feet. 

“Aren’t these a little dangerous in your condition?” He mused as he fastened a strap around her ankle and placed a kiss there. 

“If I were further along, maybe.” She lifted her hem and stretched out a leg to admire the sexy little foot in the winged gold sandal.  Damon leaned forwarded to kiss to her calf, her knee.  Then suddenly he was under her skirt, zooming in on her lace covered snatch and Bonnie squeezed the shit out of his head with her thighs.  “Damon, _no_!” 

He managed to smooch the object of his lust before crawling out from under the skirt to meet Bonnie’s laughing eyes. 

“You have a _problem_.”  She told him with a shake of her head. 

Damon wiggled his tongue at her and stood, offering her his hand. “Let’s go before I get us into trouble.” 

“Give me one more second.” 

Bonnie hurried to slip a gold cuff on her wrist and skinny gold rings on her fingers and then she was examining herself in a floor length mirror, fussing with her hair, adjusting the folds of her dress around the baby. Damon joined her, slipping his hands around her to rest on her bump, face nestled against hers. 

“You look hot, babe. I guess I can afford to be seen with you.”  He teased. 

That drew a short laugh from Bonnie and a rare display of the bighead. “Honey, you should be down on your knees thanking every deity there is for all of this.” 

He should. He should be doing a lot of things where Bonnie and their future were concerned.   Because she was more than just beautiful, she was sweet and had a big heart, she was intelligent and funny, amazingly brave.  Could handle the bunk he threw at her with far more grace and patience than he deserved. 

He refocused on their mirror image just in time for Bonnie to snap a picture with her cell. She held it up for him to see and made an exaggerated noise of approval.

“I think we make a cute…” She faltered, suddenly unsure of…them?  Twisting away, she grabbed a long black wrap and held it out to him.  “We should probably go.” 

He drew the wrap around her, securing it around her neck and then gave her a long, profound kiss. It was meant to reassure her and maybe the soft smile she gave him said she was fine, but he wasn’t. 

Make a cute… _what_?  Her aborted words bothered Damon as he drove them to the venue.  It worried him that Bonnie was sure of what they had one moment and unsure the next.  She needed a label. _He_ needed a label.  To ward off her uncertainty and all the Aarons in her world. 

It was long past time for Damon to get his shit together.

 

* * *

 

**AUTHOR'S NOTES:**

I know, I know...I promised you gala drama.  I wanted Lily's event to have its own chapter, not be tacked on the end of the setup for it.  

In the previous chapters, I've been focusing on Damon's issues with a mention here and there of Bonnie's. The bathroom discussion was a way of seguing these next chapters into focusing on her demons as Damon begins to exorcise his.

Thank you so much for reading and for the critiques and reviews, I appreciate all of them.


	9. Mama Issues

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m so sorry, I don’t even have an excuse for how late this is, I’ve just been lazy. Thanks for the messages encouraging me to continue and for reading and commenting.

* * *

If orgasm could take human form it would choose Damon Salvatore. He was channeling Adonis in a flawlessly tailored Varvatos tux, longish hair tousled attractively and neatly trimmed stubble handsomely framing his chiseled jaw.   Getting older agreed with him. And he actually looked as if he wanted to be at his mother’s hotly anticipated year end event. A foreign aura of contentment surrounded him and he seemed a whole other person removed from the guy usually brooding at the bar with drink of choice. Even when he was with that kooky girl with the double D chest. Always brooding. Now he radiated a sort of mellow bliss that made him next level sexy. 

This new Damon could most likely be attributed to the pretty young thing he was leading off the elevator. Katherine didn’t want to give another woman credit for her ex’s happiness, but it was a factor she couldn’t ignore. She had to admit that the new squeeze was beautiful, striking in a gown that seemed to change colors with the light, chartreuse one moment, dark emerald the next. Katherine actually experienced a twinge of irrational jealousy, especially when she spied the little bellyful of what was obviously Damon’s baby. 

“That must be the new girlfriend Lily’s been gushing about. She’s _stunning_.” 

Cheeks flushing slightly, Katherine refocused her attention on the woman she’d been talking to. Helen was an old money widow who loved gambling, her three spoiled Dobermans and especially gossip. There was a knowing gleam in her crinkly eyes and after quickly crafting a polite excuse, she made a beeline for her clique of prehistoric cunts. 

The fact that her life was still considered juicy dish annoyed Katherine, but the drama with Damon and Ed had been bigger than Angelina/Brad/Jennifer within their social circle. If the paternity test had turned out differently, she’d probably still be with Damon. Not as mega wealthy or pampered, but certainly a lot happier and sexually satisfied. Ed was good to her, but he was pushing seventy. The older he got, the more disinterested he became with his once coveted trophy wife and a toddler he could barely keep up with. And just as the what-ifs started picking at Katherine’s conscience, the emerald cut diamond ring on her left hand caught the light, a pointed reminder that things had worked out the way they should have. Her life was meant to be lived fabulously and Damon had only ever wanted a basic existence. Basic home, basic career, basic friends. 

Basic girlfriend apparently. 

Not wanting to appear the loser in this situation, Katherine decided to go say hello. No one could accuse her of regretting her choice of man if she were gracious to Damon and his rebound. She smoothly snagged a glass of Dom from a passing server and veered in their direction, only to have her path immediately cut off. 

“Hey.” Stefan gripped her elbow briefly to stop her progress and then took up a stance directly in front of her. He sipped his own champagne as his gaze flickered over her dispassionately. “You look nice.” 

“This dress cost twenty grand. Do better.” 

“You know, I don’t think I could come up with the right words to describe what your appearance does for me so I’m gonna stick with ‘nice’.” 

Katherine’s lips twisted with faint anger and a little amusement. He did get a kick out of reminding her that he found her completely unfuckable. 

“How’s Nadia?” 

She rolled her eyes. “Like you care.” 

“She’s my _almost_ niece, why wouldn’t I care?” He tilted his head back in his family’s direction with a smug grin.   “I’m going to be an uncle for real this time. Bonnie’s ace at taking tests.” 

That was going to leave another mark on her conscious. So the rebound had a name. It made the situation even more real and jealousy flamed again. And she’d had enough of Stefan’s shit. “Do we really have to do this?” 

Stefan shrugged. “I was all for ignoring you until I saw you headed Damon’s way.” 

“Unclench, Stefan. I just wanted to say hi.” 

“You’ve been avoiding each other for three years and now you just want to say hi? Do us all a favor and keep pretending he doesn’t exist.” 

It was easy to forget Stefan was the younger brother when he got so absurdly protective, but guilt over their douchebag father was the driver of all this watchdog bullshit. Stefan had gotten all the love and Damon had gotten all the beatings. 

“How’s Elena?” Katherine asked coolly, wanting to give him a taste of his own medicine. She and her cousin had a distant and contentious relationship, but word through the family grapevine was that Elena and Stefan were no longer together. When he only stared silently in response, Katherine scored one for herself. “Gidget and Moondoggie having problems?” 

“You’ve been warned.” 

“Jesus, Stefan. Maybe if you’d spent more time worrying about Elena and less time kissing your brother’s boo boos, you’d still have a girlfriend.” 

“Maybe if you hadn’t tried to fuck me, you’d still have a cousin.” Stefan countered. 

Being reminded of one of her more pathetically low moments rendered Katherine momentarily silent and shaking angrily in her Dior gown. 

“I’m not interested in drama.” Katherine hissed. “And I’ll go where I please and talk to whoever I want to.” 

“Cool. You do that. But if you piss off my mother…” 

It was like being doused with cold water. No, she definitely didn’t want to piss off Lily Longnails. That woman had a very evil yet elegant way of slaying her enemies. And Katherine had to take it because of her husband’s position on the board, one Ed and his three adult children coveted because of the clout and connections that came with it. They were all so sure that the Salvatores had moved past her betrayal, but Katherine knew better. They were just biding time. Keeping things classy for appearance’s sake. 

Of course, Stefan was aware of exactly where her thoughts had gone. 

“Isn’t Ed’s tenure up in a few months?” He asked with faux innocence. When she remained silent, he brushed past her with an air of self-satisfaction. 

* * *

Fingers tapped gently against her cheek.   “Where are you, babe?” 

The mental fog receded as Damon’s face swam into focus. They were in a glass elevator, ascending smoothly through the heart of a posh hotel and Bonnie wondered how they’d gotten there. She vaguely remembered emerging from the car and slipping past the red carpet through a private VIP entrance before her thoughts began to meander down lots of dangerously twisted roads. 

“Something on your mind?” 

Weird feelings, old insecurities. Doubts _._ They popped up now and again and when they started crowding her psyche, she’d beat them back with sex or food, any bright shiny distraction. But she couldn’t admit this to Damon. 

“Midterms.” Bonnie lied smoothly, meeting his eyes. “Wondering if my kids are prepared.” 

He wasn’t buying it, evidenced by the disappointment in his benign smile. But he only kissed her and then laced fingers with hers as he faced the elevator doors again. “You and I need to talk.” 

Bonnie studied his profile warily. “About what?” 

“Later. We’re gonna need some privacy.” 

Agitated, Bonnie turned to watch floors whizz by, closing her eyes as she struggled to get her shit together. And since she couldn’t sex Damon in the elevator and there was nothing sugar and carb-laden to shove in her mouth, she needed another distraction. This bourgeois turn up might be a good one. 

She’d assumed Lily’s event would be a modest black tie affair held in some gauche and ancient tea room. The modern high rise venue with sweeping views of the city nightscape was anything but. They were officially a half hour late when they stepped off the glass elevator and Bonnie felt transported. Everything was white and silver, ultra-modern and utterly sophisticated. The servers looked like runway models, tall and clothed in sleek white uniforms. There was no pretentious music to match the extravagant atmosphere, instead the room vibrated with the surprising sounds of electric jazz from a live band. There had to be at least a thousand or more attendees of all ages and stripes mingling and migrating between the atrium and the large room set aside for a silent auction. 

Lily must have been lying in wait because she was on them in an instant. Her praise for Bonnie’s appearance was effusive and her hug wholehearted. Contrary to Damon’s earlier words, she didn’t appear to be into her third drink and there were no sweet young things hanging around either. She was in high spirits, radiant in vintage black Chanel and bling that a queen would envy. 

After affectionately greeting her son and berating his tardiness, Lily took Bonnie’s hand and pointed him towards the silent auction room. “Your crazy brothers are looking for you.” 

She was obviously referring to Marcel, Ric and Stefan. Damon had received several frantic texts and phone calls from the trio on the drive over, all of which he’d ignored. He ignored his mother too, curving an arm around Bonnie and resting a possessive hand on her rump as he scanned the crowd. 

“Is Uncle Angelo here?” 

“They’re desperate, Damon.” 

“We’ve been here two minutes and already you want me to abandon my girl?” 

Lily braved Damon’s disapproving scowl and gently pried Bonnie away. “She’ll be fine with me. I need you to get them in line before they start marking their territory. They’re bidding on some Australian outback adventure and every time anyone even goes near the table, they get feral.” 

On cue, Stefan emerged from the crowd, looking completely delicious in a cobalt and black tux. Despite the wariness about their “friendship”, Bonnie knew she’d have to capture all that sexy on her phone and send the pic to Caroline. He moved past Damon like he wasn’t even there and although the smolder he was aiming at Bonnie was more teasing than serious, she now knew what it felt like to be her bestie. Girl was in _so_ much trouble. 

“I mean I love my brother.” Stefan kissed Bonnie’s hand and kept it cradled against his chest. “But I’m thinking you’d be worth the family feud.” 

Damon was unbothered. “Babe, he wears bedazzled underwear.” 

“Did he tell you about his Goth phase?” 

“Wasn’t nearly as pathetic as your grunge phase.” 

“Asshole.” 

“Dick.” 

“Forty-three hours of labor and I get these two.” Lily lamented as she guided Bonnie away. “Come with me, love.” 

“ _Lils_.” Brows knit together, Damon flung his arms wide in frustration. 

“I just want to show her off a little.” Lily waved him away. “Go play with your brothers.” 

They exchanged backward glances –- Bonnie’s amused, Damon’s annoyed -- as he was pushed towards the auction room by his brother and she was steered in the opposite direction by his mother. She instantly missed having him by her side, but until she got her emotions in check, the separation would give her time to recalibrate. 

Lily had been serious about showing her off. Bonnie was introduced to a small number of people described as close friends and despite her conflicted feelings for the other woman, her heart softened when Lily introduced her as “Damon’s Bonnie” or “Damon’s girlfriend”. And she didn’t hesitate to include the baby, always placing a hand on Bonnie’s swollen middle as she excitedly announced she was soon to be a grandmother. She even had one of her assistants, a coolly efficient redhead named Claudia, running back and forth to bring Bonnie appetizers, mock cocktails, whatever she wanted. Lily’s deference was noticed, particularly by the svelte brunette deviously hovering nearby. 

A disembodied voice announced that the auction would be over in five minutes and Lily led Bonnie into the stunning banquet hall. The décor was white and silver here as well, but the massive room was backlit in fantastical shades of blue. A stage had been erected in the middle and was surrounded by circular tables that seated ten. It was élan and magical and Lily’s personality permeated the room. 

“It’s kind of like walking into a dream.” Bonnie mused, admiring the streams of light and gauzy swag crisscrossing the high ceiling. 

“That’s what I was going for, love.” Lily said with something akin to pride. “I’ve seated you and Damon and his friends at the same table. One year I made the mistake of separating them and the little shits made a scene manipulating everything so they could sit together. I swear they all turn five when they’re around each other.” 

“Oh, I know.” Bonnie grinned, recalling the melee in Damon’s apartment. Her eyes were drawn to the stage again and the large sky tube banner hanging above it proclaiming the event the _7 th Annual Grace M. Phillips Gala_. 

Bonnie hadn’t done any due diligence on the event and turned to its hostess for some background. “Who was she?” 

Lily smiled wistfully. “My angel. She died a few years ago and I miss her so much. She used to run a women’s shelter and I was one of her babies. That’s what she used to call us poor, broken things. Her babies.” 

She was looking for a reaction to that super personal admission, arresting eyes keen and observant. Bonnie wasn’t sure what to say. Lily had given her an opening, but she suddenly felt shame over her need to blame Damon’s woes on someone who’d also suffered abuse.  

“I’m sorry, honey.” Lily gave Bonnie’s arm a reassuring squeeze. “I didn’t mean to put our unpleasant family business out there, I assumed Damon might’ve told you about his father.” 

“Actually,” Hope glimmered. _Finally_ a chance to find out more about Damon’s troubled childhood. “He doesn’t like to talk about his father.” 

“Yes…well. I learned that the hard way. When he was younger, he used to wallow in his misery, lash out. He was forever getting into trouble and I’m so glad Angelo was there to keep Damon from doing himself or anyone else any real harm. But he’s done with that now. Says reliving the past just holds him back.” The shrug she gave was so like her eldest son’s. “It is what it is.” 

Bonnie wasn’t so sure Damon was done wallowing in the past, but she wasn’t about to debate his state of mind with someone who knew him better. 

“The first time I was brave enough to leave Giuseppe, I went to Grace’s place and she had to turn me away because they were at capacity. But she wasn’t about to let me wander around the city looking for shelter with a scared little boy and a colicky baby, so she took us home with her. She had two kids herself and an itty-bitty two bedroom walkup. I was there barely a week when I started missing my big house, my jewelry and so like a ditz, I went crawling back. But Grace had made an impression on me and we became friends. I even volunteered at the shelter a few times. Mainly to get away from _him_ , but after a while, I came to love it.” 

Bonnie couldn’t imagine risking her or her baby’s safety for material possessions. “But eventually you _did_ leave him?” 

“When Damon left home and refused to come back, yes. It was either lose my child or lose my husband.” 

There seemed to be someone missing from this horror story. “Did…um, Stefan have the same…relationship…with his father as you and Damon?” 

“No, thank _God_ , Stefan was spared all that. Giuseppe doted on him, they were a lot alike –- and I don’t mean to disparage my son –- but Stefan was more inclined to do things his father’s way whereas Damon enjoyed living by his own rules. Gets that from me. Nearly ruined the boys’ relationship, but they overcame that too.” 

Bonnie felt perversely resentful of Stefan. But she was genuinely glad that he’d escaped his father’s wrath and now at least she could put Caroline’s mind at ease. 

“Anyway, Giuseppe refused to grant me a divorce so we just lived separate lives. He actually left me all his money and controlling interest in his business. Which I’ve used to help Grace’s shelter and a few others, so here we are every year, trying to make a difference. Doesn’t make sense that women in need get turned away because those places don’t have proper funding.” 

She should just let this slide, but Bonnie had _so_ many questions. Lily picked up on her conflict and gave Bonnie a compassionate smile. 

“Trust me, honey, let it go. Damon’s over what happened. We love him and as women, tend to feel things more profoundly. So we might struggle with what happened to him and want him to express it, but if he doesn’t want to talk about it, we should respect his feelings. 

“Yeah, you’re right. And I should know this.” Especially given that doozy of a fight they had last week. “It’s just…when I see those scars. I mean, they’re faded and you hardly notice them, but _I_ know they’re there and I don’t know how to deal with that.” 

Lily smiled sympathetically, confusion in her azure eyes. “What scars?” 

 _Be quiet, Bonnie_. 

“The…cigarette burns?” 

“He only has the one on his forearm.” 

“But…you don’t…on his…and his…” Bonnie used her own body to awkwardly point out where she’d seen Damon’s scars. 

“He was burned _once_.” 

They stared at each other for a silent, horrified beat as Bonnie realized she’d unwittingly revealed an ugly family secret and Lily realized that a secret had been kept from her. Bonnie had wanted to rail at her, specifically ask her where the _fuck_ she’d been when Damon had needed her the most, but the devastation in Lily’s drawn features was real. 

“I’m sorry…I shouldn’t have said anything.” A guilty Bonnie rushed to apologize, lightly touching Lily’s shoulder as she attempted to fix the mess she’d made. 

There was no response to her overture. Lily seemed to have disappeared inside herself, just a shell of vacant eyes and despondency. It was only when dinner was announced and people began streaming in behind them that she was shaken out of her trance and like a machine, her features transformed. The chic, vivacious socialite had returned. She noticed Bonnie’s anguish and shook her head fiercely. “Oh no, love, don’t do that. You were just concerned about Damon and you should be.” 

Remorse amplified, Bonnie tried to utter another apology, but Lily hushed her, placing a hand on each cheek and smiling brightly. “I said none of that…no stressing my grandson. I’m fine and this stays between us, okay? Now smile...Damon is coming.” Then she was breezing off, waving hello to guests and calling for Claudia. 

A hand slipped around Bonnie’s expanding waist and then Damon’s lips were in her ear. “I missed you.” 

Bonnie tried to hide her dismay with a forced, half-hearted tease. “You’re so whipped.” 

Only he’d gotten good at reading her and leaned in close to whisper. “You suck at hiding your feelings, babe. When we have that talk, don’t hold back.” 

She didn’t have time to react as his friends swarmed around them. After spending too much time catching up, they eventually found their way to their table and Bonnie was introduced to more Salvatores, a cousin Zach, his wife Gail and another older cousin who everyone called Uncle Angelo. The man was old school suave and a skilled flirt. Bonnie caught herself staring wonderingly at him several times. He and Damon shared the same lips and jawline and though is eyes were a warm brown, the shape of them and his thick brows were similar to Damon’s too. His salt and pepper hair even fell in the same pattern and Bonnie’s mind raced with scandalous thoughts as the handsome elder told her wild stories about Damon’s teenaged years. 

There must have been a Michelin chef in the back because dinner was amazing. _Looked_ amazing. Bonnie was too on edge to appreciate the taste of anything. And even though the whole table was lit, she found it difficult to enjoy herself knowing she was to blame for whatever internal hell Lily was going through. Finding out your child had been abused beyond what you knew had to be devastating. But later, a buoyant Lily swooped in behind her chair, wrapping an arm around Bonnie and pressing their cheeks together. Beneath the fragrant perfume was a disturbing whiff of alcohol. 

“Are you having fun?” Lily asked as she waggled fingers at Ric and blew a kiss at Jo. 

“I am…everything’s wonderful.” Bonnie piled on the enthusiasm as she turned to the other woman with carefully concealed concern and whispered, “Are you okay?” 

Lily hugged her again, leaning closer to reassure her. “I’m fine, love, I told you not to worry.” 

She did seem fine as she took the stage later and launched into an engrossing, passionate speech advocating for the various women’s shelters. And later when Bonnie spied Lily on the dance floor with a blond hunk half her age, she was able to relax a little. Just a little. Enough to finally enjoy being with Damon and his friends and despite the continued stalking from that shady looking brunette. 

* * *

Bonnie’s mood seemed to lift after the quiet exchange with his mother. After her initial off-kilter behavior, she was more relaxed, actually participating in the ribald conversation going around the table and her appetite had finally kicked in.   When a DJ replaced the live band, Damon was able to entice her to a dance. But even as they swayed sensually together, him whispering his best spit game against her neck, Bonnie was still semi-focused on Lily, who was three couples away working her magic on some blond knuckle scraper. His woman had a curious vibe going with his mother and it felt odd being out of the loop. He was all for letting them have their own thing, though. It was important to him. 

At the tap on his shoulder, Damon reluctantly lifted his head, brow hiking in question at Uncle Angelo, who was admiring Bonnie with familial approval. 

“Mind if I mosh a little with your honey?” 

“How about next dance?” Damon parleyed as he held Bonnie closer. “I haven’t felt her up yet.” 

“You’re off your game, paesano. Thought I taught you better?” Uncle Angelo shook his head as he wandered away. 

“So that’s where you learned your degenerate ways.” Bonnie commented dryly, amusement shining from her jade irises. 

“ _Some_ of my degenerate ways. The rest is all God-given.” He teased as he tried to fuse his crotch to hers. Junior wasn’t having it though and Bonnie’s laughter had him eyeing her protruding belly ruefully. “Not even here yet and already cockblocking his old man.” 

“You look a lot alike too.” She reached up to run a thumb over Damon’s brow and then her fingers were tangling in the hair skimming his nape. “You could be him in thirty years.” 

Her observation reminded him of a long ago drama, one that Uncle Angelo had told him about since Damon had been four at the time and couldn’t remember any of it. “That was almost a huge family scandal back in the day.” 

“Really? Gimme details.” 

“Lily used to run to Uncle Angelo for help whenever Giuseppe was having one of his fits. Nothing was going on, but Lils was considered family and Uncle Angelo didn’t like the way she was being treated. It was just around that time my resemblance to him really started to bloom. If the old man was in his right man, he’d have realized we both took after our great grandfather. Unfortunately, the paternity test came back in shitstain’s favor.” 

“And I thought my family had drama. Why am I not running for the hills?” 

“I’m hot, I can cook.” He swiveled his hips against hers, oozing humor and confidence as he whispered, “I’ve got a big dick.” 

Bonnie’s tawny skin was an effective deterrent to blushing, but her expression said it all. She pressed her face into his neck and only Damon could hear the snorts of laughter. Her body radiated warmth and her skin smelled like that softly scented oil she massaged into her belly every night. Instead of the usual frisson of sexual excitement, the sensation threading through his chest was contentment and joy. And all this bliss was inspiring sappy thoughts and inclinations. He wanted to scrub all that greasepaint off her face because he preferred raw, unfiltered Bonnie. He made a mental note to clear some drawer space because there were a bunch of her clothes piled on the bedroom chair. No, he should just buy another chest that was all hers. He had no Nutella in the house and that was her go-to snack and now he was making a mental shopping list. _Nutella, that soap she likes, tea, a safe step stool for when he wasn’t around to grab stuff off the top shelves._

And he was thinking they should move in together because he was tired of migrating between apartments. But hers was too small and his wasn’t that great for raising a kid. Kid should have a backyard, right? Probably should start house hunting. Maybe take Bonnie with him? 

And jewelry. Too soon for a ring so maybe a bracelet or earrings or… 

Maybe it wasn’t too soon for a ring. 

He sighed, pressing his cheek against her head as they danced. Her fingers slipped past his belt and into the back of his trousers. And there was the frission of sexual excitement. He smiled into her hair as the sappy thoughts intensified. 

_This woman, this woman._

“I guess I’m getting the evil eye because the big dick is missed?” 

He frowned down at her. With a barely noticeable tilt of her head, Bonnie redirected his attention. 

“On your left and be chill about it. Sasquatch has been watching us all night.” 

Damon surreptitiously shifted his gaze and there was Katherine, standing near the edge of the dance floor, engaging but not really engaged in conversation with her husband and another couple. 

“Your ex-girlfriend just had to be a supermodel.” Bonnie’s voice was full of humor and tinged with jealousy. 

“What makes you think she’s my ex?” 

“Don’t even try it, Damon, she’s got whodisbitch face.  She’s either an ex-girlfriend or someone you used to nail.” 

“Alright, Eensy Drew…she’s an ex-girlfriend.” 

“The same ex-girlfriend that burned you?” 

“One and the same. You gonna go kick her ass?” 

“That dick isn’t felony charge good.” 

He laughed and swung them around so she wouldn’t have to endure all the frost aimed her way. He knew Bonnie could hold her own, but he wanted her nowhere near Katherine. Bitch was toxic and Bonnie was extremely susceptible to stress at this stage of the pregnancy. It’d been years since he’d actually spoken with his ex. They carefully avoided each other whenever they happened into the same space. But Bonnie added a new and interesting dimension to his life and someone as twisted as Katherine would get a charge out of meddling. 

Two songs later, Damon finally gave in to Uncle Angelo’s need to show Bonnie who was the better dancer and was on his way back to their table when Stefan intercepted him. Anytime his brother looked that serious, Damon scuttled his wiseass instincts.   All it took was a slight incline of Stefan’s head and he was wordlessly following him out of the ballroom, into the lobby and to the elevator. 

“Mom’s holed up in a room downstairs.” Stefan led the way into the glass car. 

Fear settled deep in Damon’s chest. “She sick?” 

“Not sick, but something’s upset her.” Stefan punched a button and then crossed his arms as he stared at Damon with censure. “What’d you say to her?” 

Damon glowered. 

“Don’t give me that look. You have a tendency to say shit without realizing how fucked up it was until later.” 

This was true and Damon felt a brief but moment of shame at being reminded that he could sometimes be a dick to his mother. 

“I’ve been on my best behavior, brother.” 

Stefan sighed and tunneled fingers worriedly though his dark blonde hair. “This isn’t one of her usual performances, something’s really wrong. Maybe you can pull it out of her.” 

Lily had taken refuge in a small conference room on the main floor. A bodyguard stood sentry at the door and stepped aside when Damon and Stefan approached. It was all rather dramatic, but Lily’s two assistants were fiercely protective and no doubt didn’t want any blabbermouths nearby while she was having one of her moments. 

She was standing at a window with her back to the room. The male assistant, Gabe, was close by with a box of tissues and a shot glass of Lily’s preferred vodka. Claudia stood at a long conference table readying an assortment of cosmetics while casting anxious glances at her boss. And just as Damon was wondering what all that was about, Lily turned around and he quietly started to freak. 

She looked like shit. Warm shit on top of dog shit. And she’d gotten this way in less than twenty minutes. The last time he’d seen her, she’d been as luminous as ever while twirling around the dance floor with her boy toy. 

It wasn’t just the red puffy eyes and ruined remnants of once flawless makeup. It was the profound misery reflected in her slouched posture and inconsolable features. Once she saw Damon, Lily’s whole spirit just…disintegrated. Gone was his confident, beautiful, strong-willed mother and in her place was the weak, pitiful version he hadn’t seen in years. And as she fell into his arms, weeping brokenly and begging for answers to long ago mysteries, Damon seethed as the cause of this crisis was revealed.

* * *

Mood swings were Bonnie’s least favorite thing about being pregnant and she’d been battling them since this morning. The positive ones were welcome and energizing, the negative ones rendered her confused and exhausted. So when she emerged from the ladies’ room and spied Katherine idling at the end of the hallway pretending preoccupation with her cellphone, Bonnie couldn’t muster even a _little_ righteous indignation for the moment she’d been waiting for all evening. 

“I love your dress.” Katherine gushed with a sincerity that would’ve fooled most people. 

Bonnie smoothed a hand down her belly and patted her bump. “Thank you.” 

There was nothing deliberate in the act, her hand was always on or hovering around the baby. It was a pregnant woman thing. But the movement drew Katherine’s eyes downward and the petty bitch in Bonnie experienced a tiny rush at seeing the jealousy in those dead brown irises. And Petty Bitch Bonnie would probably be enjoying this even more if she weren’t so done in. She wanted out of these clothes -- _especially these gotdamn shoes_ \-- and into one of Damon’s soft old T-shirts. She wanted to be in a cozy bed with her man, a jar of Nutella and those buttery short bread cookies Lucy had dropped off the other day. 

“When’s the baby due?” 

“April.” 

“So you’re about --” 

“Almost six months.” 

“-- yeah. Well, you don’t look it, you’re carrying well. I was like, such a cow…” 

_Yes you are._

“…when I was six months. Seems like just yesterday I was where you are, craving everything, peeing like crazy.” 

_Double dipping, flunking paternity tests._

“So you’ve got kids?” 

“A little girl. She’s deep into those terrible twos.” 

_I hope she grows up to be a pole dancer._

“And fair warning. It’s hard to discipline them at that age. Their lips wobble and they flash these big, sweet eyes. Doesn’t help that her daddy spoils her rotten.” 

“I’m sure.” 

At Bonnie’s bland tone, Katherine faltered a little. “Do you…uh…know what you’re having?” 

“A boy.” 

“Oh how sweet. I’m sure your husband totally had that pounding-his-chest moment.” 

“He was…” Bonnie yawned, mouth going wide, eyes squeezing shut and they were extra disinterested when they focused on Katherine again. “…cool either way.” 

“That’s really sweet. Some men are so Neanderthal about having boys. How long have you been married?” 

Bonnie held back the sarcastic retort, but her face probably said it all. Katherine’s cleavage went red. 

“This is kinda awkward, right?” 

“I’m sorry?” 

“This girlfriend and ex-girlfriend trying to be cool with each other thing.” 

“Oh.” That innocent façade faded and old girl’s other face emerged. “Damon told you who I was.” 

“You’ve been staring all night…wasn’t hard to figure out.” 

Now everything was red. Neck, cheeks, ears. 

“I’m Bonnie, by the way.” She offered her hand and when Katherine went for the limp squeeze, Bonnie held on and firmly shook the other woman’s hand the way her grandfather had taught her. “Nice to meet you.” 

Katherine’s elegant features registered genuine surprise. “That was a classy thing to say.” 

Bonnie shrugged and though she wasn’t totally one hundred on her relationship, she was smug in her response. “Easy to be classy when you know where you stand.” 

“Really?” Katherine’s eyes were shining. She got obviously got off on this kind of thing. “And where’s that?” 

“In the present. And the future.” 

“I guess I’m of the past.” 

“Girl, you are _so_ of the past.” 

Damon’s ex actually smirked. 

“You fucked up good, which I guess was fortunate for me.” 

Katherine outright chuckled at that. “I think I like you.” 

“Feeling’s not mutual.” 

“I totally understand.” 

“I’m glad you do. I’ve been imagining all these things I would do to you if I ever met you, you know…kick you in the vajayjay, punch you in the mouth…” 

“What’s stopping you?” 

Bonnie’s sigh perfectly emphasized her exhaustion. “I’m tired.” 

Katherine actually gave her a sympathetic nod. “Ginseng tea is good for that.” 

“That was very classy of you.” Bonnie mimicked sharply and she could feel her mood finally swinging towards that righteous indignation. 

“Does this mean I don’t have to fear for my vajayjay?” 

Worn out, over it, bored, Bonnie just stared at the other woman for an intense beat, unsure whether she wanted to clock this chick or cry. And then she wondered why she was even giving Damon’s ex -– _ex –-_ so much power when she was basically irrelevant. She glided away. _Tried_ to glide. Her aching feet would only allow her to walk away gingerly. Proudly. But gingerly. 

Their table was empty when she returned. Everyone was on the dance floor and Damon had gone off radar. Bonnie sent him a text and sat impatiently at the table for long minutes waiting for a response. She was moody, she was ready to go. When she finally received a reply, she thought something seemed off about it. Text messages were hard to interpret unless they were in all caps or accompanied by ridiculous emojis. But that “in the lobby” seemed sort of…brusque. It had her inner radar screaming as she made her way downstairs. 

Damon was the lone occupant in the lounge area, sitting on the edge of a white leather sofa as if he was ready to pounce. As he watched Bonnie approach, his brows formed that telltale V and his dilated pupils eclipsed the blue irises. 

Yep. He was pissed. 

“Hey, babe.” 

The greeting was devoid of the usual affection and the bass in his voice was at ten, another sign that he was heated. But he took her hand, holding it firmly as she eased down onto the sofa across from him and then he leaned back to observe her silently, expectantly. His eyes were fire. Bonnie wanted to talk about everything but whatever it was –- and she kind of knew what it was -- that had him looking like he wanted to wreck shit. 

“I ran into Katherine a few minutes ago.” She said casually, toeing out of the painful shoes. 

A slight movement of Damon’s head had him effectively giving her the side eye. He’d peeped her delay game, but he didn’t call her on it and actually expressed a sliver of concern. “You okay?” 

Bonnie tried to respond, but her nerves were fucking with her heartbeat and she was finding it difficult to breathe. And though there was underlying concern in his features, Damon wasn’t about to let her off the hook.

“What did you say to my mother?” He asked in a fighting-for-self-control, calm-before-the-storm kind of way. 

The first instinct was to defend herself and it was strictly because of his censuring attitude, which caused that rage she hadn’t been able to muster for Katherine to start simmering. But Lily’s welfare was the number one issue. “Is she alright?” 

Shaking his head, hands fisting together as looked away, Damon’s struggle to keep his emotions in check was a difficult thing to witness. “I…haven’t seen my mother this… fucked up since that time he dragged her around the kitchen. By the hair. While he beat her with his belt.” He swung his angry gaze back to her. “She was being punished for sneaking me dinner after he’d sent me to bed without any.” 

Bonnie had no words. 

“I asked you…” He was like a ticking time bomb of self-righteous fury. “…no I _begged_ you to drop this.” 

“I didn’t mean to…we were talking and…” Bonnie abruptly paused because she could feel herself losing it. And the one thing she was _not_ going to do was cry. It was hard to get her thoughts together with her hormones all over the place and her body threatening to collapse. 

“I asked you a fucking question!” 

His voice was so hard and guttural, it made her jump. So that’s what a verbal slap felt like. 

“Uh… _no_ , I don’t think so, Damon. You will _not_ speak to me like that.” Bonnie’s spine was ramrod straight, her tone matching his so he wouldn’t miss that she meant business.  “I’m sorry that I upset Lily, it wasn’t intentionally done. She was talking about Grace and _she_ brought up your father and I’m sorry, but yes, I got nosey and everything went sideways from there. But the real question, Damon, is why didn’t she know about the burns? What the hell went on in that house?” 

“That’s not your concern.” 

“The father of my child is not my concern? Then what the fuck are we doing?” 

He actually rolled his eyes. “What is it about women and this sick attraction to emotionally stunted men? Does that shit get you off?” He sneered, he condescended. “You want me to curl up on your boobs and blubber about my pain?” 

And now Bonnie was getting _really_ heated. “I asked you not to speak to me that way.” 

His grin was amazing, teeth showing and everything and he actually laughed. It seemed so genuine, but the next second his expression went all blank and dismissive. 

“Babe, seriously, fuck your feelings right now.” 

Shanked. That’s how she felt. Bonnie could feel her tears burning behind her eyes and her throat closing up. Just the threat of waterworks would have stopped him any other time, but he was too in his feelings about his mama. 

“Lily hasn’t been the best mother.” Damon admitted and then with sharp derision continued, “Certainly not as _perfect_ as Abby.” 

“Don’t _even_ go there.” If he uttered one more word about _her_ mama, Bonnie was going to snatch him bald. 

“My mother’s been through hell, Bonnie.” He said, pounding his fist on his thigh. “I don’t want her to suffer anymore!” 

Bonnie blinked, angled her head to study him with astonishment. “If you don’t want her to suffer anymore, than maybe _you_ should stop punishing her.” 

Mr. Self-Righteous had nothing to say now. Couldn’t do anything but sit there and mean-mug. 

“Oh you know what I’m talking about. Do you ever call her ‘mom’? When you address her, she’s always ‘Lily’ or ‘Lils’. That’s worse than ‘Hey, you’. I’ve heard you speak to her like she’s _your_ child, like you don’t want to be bothered. That’s some real disrespectful, passive-aggressive shit, Damon. If you really love your mother and want her to be happy, why don’t you forgive her for whatever it is she did and give her back her title?” 

For a moment, he looked as if he really did want to curl up on her boobs and blubber about his pain. She’d struck a nerve, a raw one. He shot to his feet and walked away towards one of the large floor-to-ceiling windows that looked out onto the street. Bonnie could see his reflection and he was barely holding it together. He was either seconds away from crying or putting his fist through the glass in front of him. And she felt for him despite her anger… _Jesus,_ she felt for him. What she didn’t feel was one iota of regret for what she’d said. 

They needed some distance or this argument was going to turn savage. Bonnie struggled into her shoes again, then pulled her phone out of her small evening clutch and begin scrolling through her apps. 

“What’re you doing?” 

How he’d managed to be standing in front of her without her realizing it was a testament to just how drained she was. Bonnie tipped her head back to look up at him and noted that Damon’s imminent breakdown had been successfully thwarted, but his stiff posture, furrowed brow and flushed skin meant he had yet to overcome his anger. 

Tensing for another war of words, Bonnie replied wearily, “I’m getting a ride.” 

His hard stare bounced from her face to her feet and back again and then he was tugging the phone out of her hand and shoving it into his pocket. 

“Damon.” Bonnie hissed between clenched teeth, tears threatening. “I don’t want to fight anymore, I just want to go home.” 

“I’ll take you.” He asserted as he kneeled in front of her and began fishing in his other pocket. 

“You’re not still pissed?” 

The look he gave her was extra salty. “I’m in a grown up relationship, how about you?” 

Bonnie didn’t like having her words thrown back at her or that Damon was being so thoughtful when she wanted to stay mad at him. That “fuck your feelings” was going to stick with her a while. But he’d pulled her shoes off again and was now sliding a pair of her favorite fuzzy anklets onto her aching feet. When had he pilfered those and how was it that he could anticipate her needs better than she could? She glared ruefully at his bowed head, his thick hair a magnet for her eyes. She wanted to stick her hands in it, twirl a finger around those two silver strands she didn’t have the heart to tell him about. 

When he was standing again, Bonnie mused aloud, “How can you be such a bitch one minute and so sweet the next?” 

He regarded her coolly, a corner of his mouth ticking up humorlessly. “I was wondering the same thing about you.” 

If her shoes weren’t dangling from his fingers, she’d throw one at his head. He silently offered her his hand and reluctantly took it and let him help her to her feet. As soon as she was steady, Damon released her and him and her shoes strutted off, leaving her fuming and following at a slower pace. 

Wondering if this was the beginning of the end. 

* * *

Damon hardened his heart against Bonnie’s soft crying. If they’d been the only injured parties in this scenario, he’d probably stop the car, wrap her in his arms and try to soothe them back to a good place. But she’d dragged his mother into their drama. Unintentionally, but she’d done it. Now Lily was heartbroken and he couldn’t let that shit slide. 

As he gunned the Vanquish down the narrow city streets, Bonnie became one with the passenger door, head bowed, fingers surreptitiously swiping at her cheeks. Damon mulishly focused on the road, but he caught sight of her hand curving over the baby and…

 _Sigh_ … _fuck._

Double parking in front of her building, he shoved his anger aside. Letting go of it completely wasn’t gonna happen, not while his mama was miserable. He was in love with Bonnie, whole being on fire kind of in love. But Lily had given him life. Lily was  his _blood_. She hadn’t been a perfect mother and _damn_ she was a piece of work, but she was _his_ piece of work. 

As he clicked out of his seatbelt and leaned into Bonnie’s space, he wondered idly if this was going to be a forever thing, this having to balance his love for his mother with his love for his woman. He knew for sure that until he figured out how to honor one without dishonoring the other, he’d be going through vats of bourbon. 

Voice surly and demanding, he tugged at a thick coil of her hair. “Look at me.” 

An indignant hand shot up, dislodging his fingers from her curls, nearly clocking him the nose and Bonnie vehemently issued a warning. “Boss me _one_ more time...” 

Damon was by now quite fluent in tiny bad ass woman speak and he quickly fixed his tone. “Would you look at me, _please_?” 

She took her time turning to face him, arms wrapped around her and their kid, tears leaking like a sieve from smudged eyes and lips pressed firmly together as she held stubbornly to her fury. And he couldn’t stop the corner of his mouth from quirking up because snot and all, he wanted to kiss the shit out of her. 

“I’m not happy with what you did, babe.” 

Puffy eyes narrowed, causing more tears to seep and she kept giving him stinkface as she reached for the door handle. 

“Hey.” Damon grabbed her hand and held on tight. Prayed for patience. “I’m not happy with what you did, but I’ll get over it. And I’m sorry I got so angry, I’m sorry I said all those fucked up things. I respect you, you’re important to me. That’s not how I ever want to treat you, Bon. 

That took some of the piss out of her ire. 

“And I know you weren’t trying to hurt my mother. To be honest, I was extra raging because this isn’t how I wanted this night to go. We were supposed to come back here so we could just… _be_ …and I wanted to tell you how I…” 

She visibly melted. Anger just seeped out of her as her goopy eyes widened with comprehension. 

“But things are kinda fucked up.”  Damon exhaled tiredly, pinching the bridge of his nose as he thought about the damage he had to undo. “So I have to put us on hold and go talk Lily off a ledge.” 

This was the first time he’d ever seen her so dejected and guilty and Damon wanted desperately to comfort her. She’d become his everything, but he had to continue playing the hard ass because he had to make her see. 

“You’re gonna have to stop treating me like I’m fragile.” 

“I don’t.” 

“You do.” He reached into the backseat for his overnight bag and started rummaging through it. 

“I know you’re not fragile, but I can’t help but think you should be.” 

“Been there, done that.” He yanked out a clean shirt and pointedly held it under her dripping nose. “You wouldn’t have liked me if you’d met me a few years ago. I used people, lied, manipulated, caused much violence. My family disowned me several times.” 

“Even Stefan?” 

“Especially Stefan.” 

“But he adores you.” 

“I tried to fuck his girlfriend so…” 

The look on her face was priceless. 

“She had a crush on me and I was in a weird sibling rivalry phase. But Katherine tried to screw him a few years later, so it’s all kind of a wash.” 

“Your family is kind of --” 

“Yeah.” 

“I…need details.” 

“Some other time. I was about to make a point.” 

“I need _details.”_

“ _Eventually_ I learned how to get past what my father did to me. And I didn’t have to curl up into a ball on some shrink’s couch to do it.” 

She bunched up the ruined designer tee, eying him skeptically and Damon lifted her hand to kiss the petite knuckles. “I’m good, babe. Promise. One day I might feel like telling you all the gory details, but today I’m way past tired of reliving it. No more Giuseppe talk, okay?” 

Her shoulders heaved as she swiped at her nose and he could see how much effort it took for her to finally let go. 

“If you’re good, I’m good. _But._ ” Then she held up a finger, expression serious. “You might be over what happened with your father, but you’ve still got issues with your mom.” 

“I know…I’m gonna fix that.” He dipped low to drop a kiss on her belly and then tucked her wrap around her. “Let’s get you and the nugget inside and then I’m going back to the party to make sure Lily’s okay. And when I get back, we’re going to sleep this night off and talk in the morning. That work for you?” 

“I want to go with you, I want to make sure she’s okay and I really need to apologize.” 

“Babe, you look ready to keel over. She’s not upset with _you_ , believe me. If it makes you feel better, you can talk to her tomorrow.”

Surprisingly, his normally stubborn girl gave in. Getting out of the car was a struggle for her and she was leaning heavily against him as they took the flight of stairs to her apartment. This climb would only get worse for her as her pregnancy progressed. _Definitely_ needed to go house hunting. 

They reached the landing and Damon noticed the guy first. Good-looking, dark hair, dark eyes. They lit up with a mixture of joy and apprehension when they landed on Bonnie, hardened when they landed on Damon. He might’ve been cool if the prick weren’t holding a bouquet of roses. 

“Enzo…what are you…” 

Bonnie’s voice was mixture of surprise and apprehension. Damon could feel her eyes on him, but he kept his focus on the dick standing in front of his woman’s door. 

“I was going to leave these, but…hello, Bonnie.” The other man’s European accent was tinged with hope. And it was like Damon wasn’t even there. 

“What are you doing here?” 

The displeasure in Bonnie’s tone didn’t register as Damon distanced himself from her, physically, emotionally. This particular bullshit had happened one time too many and he was starting to feel played. 

“You wouldn’t respond to my messages so I thought…” 

See, he couldn’t even be angry anymore because he should’ve seen this coming. He was halfway down the stairs when Bonnie frantically calling his name finally penetrated the rage but fuck her. 

Fuck this asshole complaining about being blocked in, fuck all these red lights, fuck the flask in the glove compartment being empty, fuck house hunting and rings and confessing his feelings…fuck _all_ of this. 

He was done. 


	10. Under The Doghouse

After Damon disappeared from view, the anguish Bonnie felt at his abandonment lasted about three seconds. A strange tranquility suffused her spirit and she embraced it, closing her eyes as she took deep, cleansing breaths.

“Bonnie.”

Eyelids fluttered open to find Enzo gawking at her with concern.

“My intention was not to cause problems between you and…”

“Damon.” Bonnie supplied coolly. He was not her man, he was not her boyfriend. From this moment on, the father of her baby would be referred to as Damon or Punk Ass Bitch. “Why are you here again?”

Sheepishly shifting the roses and a thick white envelope, Enzo whined. “You wouldn’t respond to my calls, my texts.”

“Why would I respond to calls or texts from someone I no longer give a shit about?”

He flinched visibly at her declaration. “I am…totally baffled by your anger.”

Like a _Price Is Right_ showgirl, Bonnie waved a hand beneath her serene countenance. “Does this look angry to you?”

Flummoxed, Enzo simply stared.

“You seem to need closure. Let me give it to you.”

Flinging open her thick evening wrap, Bonnie watched the play of emotions distort his features as he gaped at her rounded belly. Shock, anger, hurt, regret. It appeared to do the trick.

“Are we done?”

“This is the reason you broke up with me?”

“It’s getting late, could we use our inside voices please?”

“You were cheating?” Red-faced, Enzo flung a hand at the spot where Damon’s sorry carcass had been. “With _him_?”

Bonnie sighed because _men_. “I met Damon long after I ended things with you.”

“Then _why_?”

“Did I dump you? To be honest, I figured you were going to leave anyway.”

“That makes no sense!” Enzo hissed, all kinds of sad and angry. “Things were going well between us!”

“Things were going well for _you_.”

“And you lied to your family about me!”

_Now how had he figured that out?_

“What’re you talking about?” Bonnie played clueless.

“I ran into David a few weeks ago.”

_That big blabbermouth muthaf--_

“He was ready to pound me into the pavement! You told them I cheated on you!”

“I know…I’m sorry…I lied.” Bonnie strung the admission and apology together dispassionately. “I had to make you the bad guy. Whenever I break up with their idea of a good man, I get the third degree. They’re nosey as fuck like that.”

“That’s mental, Bonnie.”

“Probably. But my sanity is my problem not yours.” The baby kicked and Bonnie could swear little man was as tired of this conversation as she was. “You know, I’m beat and I can’t with this anymore. I’ve moved on and you should to.”

“Bonnie --”

“ _Enzo_. Am I going to have to file a restraining order? You want me to call my dad?”

No need to explain that threat. The one member of her family who’d never liked Enzo had a ton of connections because of his powerful city alderman position. Rudy could make his life far more miserable than Caroline’s police detective mother ever could.

Crushed, he stepped away from the door. And recognizing that she was being a bitch, Bonnie closed the distance and gave him a brief, impersonal embrace that he tried to reciprocate but she was pulling away and unlocking the door before he could.

“Goodbye, Enzo.”

She didn’t spare him a backward glance, another thought. As soon as she was inside the apartment with the door locked and deadbolt in place, Bonnie slipped out of her shoes and hung away her wrap. She lit candles, queued up _All Eyez On Me_ on her little iPod speaker because despite the Zen, she was in a fuck everything frame of mind.

The knocking sounded just as she was about to step into a warm bubble bath and Bonnie let loose a short, humorless laugh. She’d assumed she wouldn’t hear from him for a couple days, but seems it had taken Damon only twenty-three minutes to realize he’d screwed up. Padding naked to the door, she slid the deadbolt chain back just far enough to open it a crack.

This felt like an out of body experience. There was no other explanation for the extreme indifference she felt at seeing him so soon after all the emotional upheaval they’d just gone through. Damon however was exhibiting very palpable shame and remorse. He loomed further into the narrow opening, gaze accessing and relieved.

“I came back to make sure you were okay.”

“I’m peaches and gravy.” Bonnie responded breezily.

The easy-going disposition unnerved him, had him studying her for a concerned stretch. “Babe, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have peeled out like that and left you alone with some strange guy. Anything could’ve happened.”

“Well he’s gone and I’m pretty sure he won’t be back.”

His eyes flickered over the little he could see of her, briefly flaring when he noticed she was nude and then growing serious and repentant. “I fucked up.”

Bonnie was unmoved, Damon was thrown because Bonnie was unmoved. Peridot and aquamarine irises met in silent where-do-we-go-from-here contemplation as Tupac spit bars in the background.

Damon hooked a finger over the deadbolt chain, rattling it pointedly and using his sex voice to ask, “Can we talk about it?”

Bonnie didn’t hesitate to shoot him down. “I was about to take a bath and you should go check on your mother.”

“My mother can wait.”

“You know she can’t.”

“I don’t want to leave here with you mad at me.”

“I’m not mad now but I will be if I get in that tub and all my bubbles are gone.”

“Babe, come on.”

“No, _you_ come on. I’m not feeling you right now, Damon. My head is in this really weird place and if I let you in, you’re leaving here on a stretcher. Without your dick. So let me have my milk and honey therapy and you go take care of your mother.”

Wisely he backed down, body language disappointed, irritated, pressed. Genuinely baffled by this brick wall version of ‘his girl’. His baby blues went all in trying to convey how much he wanted to make amends. “I’ll call you tomorrow.”

“Cool.” Bonnie’s answering smile was mechanical and dismissive. She caught a glimpse of his defeated face as she closed the door firmly and locked it, sliding the deadbolt back into place. Then with a hand on her belly she danced off towards the bathroom, not a care in the world as she flowed.

_“So now they got us laced…two multimillionaire muthafuckas catchin cases…bitches get ready for the throw down…the shit's about to go down…me and Snoop about to clown…”_

 

* * *

 

The scent of coffee and the far off whirr of a vacuum woke Damon from a dead sleep. He rolled over and groaned at the stiffness in his back and neck. This frou frou sofa was barely comfortable for sitting, let alone sleeping. He could’ve crashed in one of the guest rooms, but he’d fallen asleep while talking to Stefan after Lily had finally gone to bed.

Sluggishly he lifted his head and there was little brother, passed out on the other sofa. Both of them had been covered with blankets and Damon threw his off as he struggled to sit up. Excruciating pain sliced through his skull, the kind of pain that had you inventing new curse words. Last night they’d gone through several bottles of vodka as agonizing history was rehashed and old secrets revealed.

He swiped his cellphone off the coffee table and squinted at the time. Nearly eleven. Of course, no messages from Bonnie. _Under_ the doghouse, that’s where she’d put his pathetic ass.

“That shirt is ruined.”

Damon gingerly turned his head to see Lily entering the room. Then he glanced down, wincing as his eye sockets throbbed, and took in the multicolored smudges and stains mottling once crisp white fabric.

“You owe me a new one.” The jest lacked humor. His shirt was a mess because she’d spent most of last night sobbing against his chest.

The scent of dark roast ignited his dulled senses and Lily handed him one of the two mugs she was carrying. Damon was in awe of how fresh faced and well rested she appeared in spite of everything. Her hair was pulled back in a loose ponytail, face makeup free and she wore sweatpants and a distressed David Bowie tee. The look knocked a couple decades off her fifty-something years.

“If the gentry could see you now, they’d be scandalized.”

She smiled and tweaked his chin.

“You were deeper into the bottle than we were, why aren’t you wrecked too?”

“Weed does wonders for hangovers.”

Damon nearly dropped his coffee.

“That’s what I’ve _heard_.” Lily laughed as she went to shake Stefan awake. His first instinct when he swayed clumsily to his feet was to hug her and Damon envied how easy it was for his brother to give their mother affection.

“I smell bacon.” Voice rough from his bender, Stefan sniffed the air disapprovingly.

“Angelo’s making breakfast.” Lily was cheesed. “And I’d just finished scouring the stove.”

Cleaning was cathartic for her. You could gauge her mood if she were dressed down and giving the apartment a good scrubbing. She employed a weekly cleaning service, but when Lily needed to clear her head, she’d called off the professionals and devote hours to housework while soft rock blared.

“You boys should eat something.” Lily suggested, folding a blanket with precision. And when she noticed her sons’ matching grimaces she insisted. “He’s made some eggs and oatmeal, they’re both good for hangovers. Go. Eat.”

They dragged themselves into the kitchen where Uncle Angelo was placing a platter of bacon on the center island. The sight of mounds of greasy pork had Damon’s stomach roiling.

“Morning!” Angelo boomed deviously and cackled as the younger Salvatores glowered at him. “Lightweights.”

Next to Stefan, Damon eased onto a stool, fingers pressing against his aching temple. “What’re you doing out of your tomb, old man?”

“Had a feeling I might be needed.”

Uncle Angelo to the rescue again. This family would never be able to repay the debt they owed him.

Aspirin and glasses of water were placed in front of them and Damon and Stefan swallowed more than the recommended dosage. They were reluctantly attacking the food Uncle Angelo had dished up when Lily joined them. She parked a bucket of cleaning supplies on the countertop and went to pour coffee for herself, then stood across from them and eyed her eldest resolutely.

A forkful of eggs stopped centimeters from Damon’s mouth. “What?”

“I want us to go to therapy.”

His lips twisted wryly at the return of the domineering matriarch. There hadn’t been even a whiff of polite request in those words.

“If it makes _you_ feel better, go ahead.”

“I’d really like us to get past this and I feel we should go _together_.”

“I’m not going to therapy.”

“You’re going to therapy.” Uncle Angelo interjected, face hidden behind a newspaper sports section.

It was telling that the ache in Damon’s head intensified. “Uncle Angelo, you’ve hauled my ass out of the fire more times than you should’ve, that’s why I’m willing to take crap from you _most_ of the time. But I’m on the other side of thirty and about to be a father, so I mean no disrespect when I tell you to mind your own business.”

Uncle Angelo lowered the paper, looking for all the world like he wanted to toss this disrespectful whelp over his knee. But then he deferred to Damon with a proud nod and went back to reading his paper.

Now as for Lillian Sofia Salvatore…

“Mamma.”

The word sounded foreign and rusty on Damon’s lips, but speaking it got the desired effect. Lily instantly softened, too stunned and elated, judging by that tremulous smile, to continue imposing her will. And now that she was emotionally malleable, Damon could lay down the rules on how this healing process was going to go.

“Therapy is not my jam. I’ve got issues with you that I need to work on and I’m willing to do it. I don’t need anyone telling me _how_ to do it.”

Lily opened her mouth to speak, thought better of it and instead asked tentatively, “If she thinks it a good idea for you to come in for _one_ session, will you at least consider it?”

“I’ll give you a five percent maybe on that.”

She broke out her sad mommy face.

“You wanna make it zero?”

“You’re such a stubborn little shit.” Lily snatched up a slice of bacon and chomped down irritably.

Damon’s grin was triumphant but victory was short-lived when memory broke through the hangover fog. “Yeah, uh…your therapist still Tara Nolan?”

“Well, I haven’t seen her in a while and I _was_ planning to make an appointment with -- wait how did you --” Lily’s mouth dropped open as realization dawned and she erupted with disapproval and disgust. “For fuck’s sake, Damon!”

Oatmeal shot of Stefan’s mouth and Uncle Angelo’s hand slapped the island as the two of them howled.

It’d been a while since Damon had actually been embarrassed by his behavior and he made a weak effort of defending himself. “Who keeps inviting hot women to her snooty shindigs?”

“You are _unbelievable!_ ” Lily went to the sink and began throwing dirty pots around with a vengeance. “Thank God Bonnie’s cured you of being such a raging whore!”

Damon’s nonresponse was to stuff more food into his mouth.

“And don’t tried to hide the fact that you two are in some kind of fight.” Lily pointed a dirty spatula accusingly at him.

He got up to top off his coffee, quick to shoot any further discussion of his personal life down. “Me and Bonnie are cool.”

“Then why do you keep checking your phone like you’re in a fight and anxious for her to call?”

So she’d noticed what a tragic asshole he was.

“For an old chick, you’re really on the ball.”

“Hee. Hee. Damon, I told you not to blame her for what happened.” Lily smacked his rear end with one of her yellow rubber gloves. “She was just worried about you.”

“This is between me and Bonnie, _Lillian._ ”

She wasn’t pleased with the return of her government name, but she loved her some Bonnie so she kept pressing. “Tell me you didn’t yell at that poor girl. At this critical stage of carrying _my_ grandchild, she needs peace and happiness and to be spoiled rotten.”

Stefan pulled his nose out of his breakfast to put in his two cents. “Look, mom, I understand where Damon’s coming from. You were a mess and because of that, I was pretty mad at Bonnie too. But she’s family now and I’ve forgiven her for the baby’s sake.” Then in a completely serious aside to Damon, he said, “And just so you know, if she decides to dump you and I have to choose between you and my nephew --”

“You’re choosing the kid?” Damon leaned against the counter and clutched his chest. “I’m wounded, little brother.”

Stefan raised his coffee mug in salute. “Hey, man, we had a good run.”

“Let me give you both some advice.” Lily’s earnest gaze bounced between both her sons. “When you meet a girl who’s _the_ one, do not put my needs above hers. _Ever_.”

“So we should put you in a home?” Damon couldn’t resist pushing her buttons, she looked so adorably intense. “I’ve got a few picked out already.”

“Giving birth to you was like sitting on barbwire and grenades, so you will _shut it_.”

Stefan guffawed and then grabbed his head with a whimper.

“I would never want you to put your wives above me nor would I ever encourage it. Your grandmother incited your father’s disrespect towards me, that’s why he was such a _pussy_.”

The brothers shared comical looks of surprise and then Stefan asked like a broken little boy, “I thought you loved grandma?”  

Lily rolled her eyes. “I hated that dried up cunt.”

It was painful, but there was no way either of them could not crack up at that.

“She _was_ an evil old girl.” Angelo agreed, grinning in remembrance. “My mamma hated her too and they were sisters.”

Sliding on a rubber glove, Lily let it snap against her wrist as she glared at Damon. “I want you kissing that girl’s feet before noon.”

“That doesn’t leave a lot of time to get my game face on. Plus, she’s not too happy with me right now. I think I’m gonna give her a chance to miss…” With a confidence he didn’t really feel, Damon waved a hand across himself  “…all this.”

Stefan snorted and Lily shook her head.

“If you wanna keep your gonads, giving her time to cool off is a good idea.” Angelo agreed. “She looks like the angel on top of the tree, but you gotta watch out for them tiny sweet ones.”

Recalling the reception he’d gotten when he’d returned to Bonnie’s apartment last night, Damon agreed. But they’d argued before and come back from it. This rift between them would pass too.

 

* * *

 

By Tuesday, Damon wanted out of the doghouse. He’d been impatiently keeping his distance while waiting for her to initiate reconciliation, but his girl was not budging an inch. There’d been texts and awkwardly brief phone conversations to make sure she and the baby were okay, to see if she needed anything. The more clipped and dismissive her responses, the more his optimism waned.

He waited until evening to call, by then she’d usually be wound down from her day. When she answered she sounded breathless. And happy. In the background, he heard other voices, the busy cacophony of city life, a soulful version of _My Favorite Things_.

“You alright?”

“I’m --” She squealed gleefully and some dude crowed in the background.  “-- dodging snowballs from Jamie.”

“Can we not shake the kid loose?” Damon said with mild concern and mounting jealousy. It was just her brother, but still.

“I’m fine, Damon. What’s up?”

“I miss you.”

The ensuing silence was the most awkward to date.

“That’s not the reaction I was going for.”

“What reaction were you going for?”

“‘I miss you too, let’s go find a sandbox’.”

“I’m not ready.”

“I’ve tried to give you space, babe, but it’s been three days.”

More silence.

“ _Three_ days.”

“Fuck your feelings.”

Now it was Damon’s turn to be silent.

“You said ‘fuck your feelings’.”

“You know I didn’t mean that.”

“Intellectually, yes. But it still hurt. I just need a little more time.”

What could he do other than make himself look even more pathetic? “Alright.”

“This is the one.”

“What?”

“No, I was talking to…I’m buying a tree.”

“Right…it’s that time of year.”

“You’re not really into holidays, are you?”

“Not really, but if you need help schlepping it home --”

“We can manage, David’s here too. I have to go, okay? I’ll call you.”

Sprawled on the sofa, Damon dropped his phone on his chest and glared at the ceiling as he ruminated. This wasn’t going to be as easy as he’d thought.

 

* * *

 **Author's Notes:** This is where the story segues into being more about Bonnie and her relationships with her family and ex boos. Some of you might be curious about that conversation between Damon, Lily and Stefan, but that gets revealed as Bonnie deals with her stuff. As always, thanks for reading.


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